


Arthur Pendragon and the Dragonheart Diamond

by Rawks



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Adultery, Adventure, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bastet - Freeform, Cat Kilgharrah, Christmas, Christmas Fluff, Comfort Food, Cults, Detectives, Domestic Fluff, Dragons, Father-Son Relationship, Food Trucks, M/M, Murder Mystery, Nipple Play, Religious Conflict, Suspicions, Theft, Ugly Holiday Sweaters, Witchcraft, triskelion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-28
Updated: 2016-12-28
Packaged: 2018-09-11 17:47:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 29
Words: 84,605
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9000538
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rawks/pseuds/Rawks
Summary: Arthur Pendragon has had enough. He makes an escape from London to his mother's old home in Camlot, a small city by the sea in Wales. He hopes to fit in, but experiences a huge culture clash. What's more, the night before his arrival, one of the villagers was brutally murdered in the local shop. Before he is even fully settled, Arthur is asked to investigate with the help of his desperately cute neighbor Merlin.





	1. The Great Escape

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kim47](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kim47/gifts).



“Are you ready?” Arthur Pendragon asked himself.

 _Not by a long shot_ , was his answer. But he was convinced that this was the best place to go at such a short notice. He stepped into his brand new BMW X7, turned on the seat warming and the heated steering wheel before he set off to his new destination. The movers should have arrived the day before, on Thursday, and prepared everything for him. He was ready to start his new life. No. Not really. But he didn’t really have a choice.

For the past three years, Arthur had been more and more unhappy with his life in the City. He had lived a prestigious, high-speed, top quality life. Everything was of the highest order for him: his penthouse, his six figure job at an international company, as well as the fiancée his father chose for him. The fiancée his father took to his own bed...

His car revved and he sped out onto the road, turning on his automatic rotating CD player in the back of his car to play a combination of Adele and Aretha Franklin to sufficiently feed his heartbreak, trying to forget about Sophia and all her false promises. He felt so utterly betrayed. Arthur had conceded to so many things over the years. He had effectively shaped himself into the image his father had of him. He still couldn’t believe that Uther had done this to him. For years, Arthur had shown his diligence and let go of anything he had wanted for himself: the study he wanted, his local football team, friends who were ‘below his proper circle’, as well as other more personal choices… He had put them aside because these things weren’t done. And he always felt that he needed to be grateful for anything ever handed to him.

He was done proving himself. He was done with London and with the apologies of the two people supposed to be closest to him. After two weeks of intense fights, Sophia even began blaming him for having had his head in the clouds all the time. For having his stupid, selfish wishes for himself. After everything Arthur had sacrificed! Like it was his fault that she took a liking to his father. When he promptly broke off the engagement, his father had rung him minutes later to ask what he thought he was doing.

That had been a bloody good question, and it set Arthur’s mind into problem-solving-mode, something he was very good at. What _was_ he doing with his life? He wasn’t even quite certain who he was anymore. Everything had been externalised to such a degree that it had now been irrevocably time to shed his skin and start anew. In the countryside, that was. He would reinvent himself, fit in with the local people and… well, he’d figure it out from there.

So, Arthur Pendragon was setting out on his trip away from the city, to Pembrokeshire by the sea, to his mother’s home, which she had left in his name. He knew nothing about the place except for the one or two times Uther had spoken of it. Uther never mentioned Ygraine. Somewhere deep down, Arthur still felt as if Uther blamed him that his mother died in childbirth. Somewhere, in that same deep dark corner, Arthur did too.

He hadn’t told his friends about his escape, nor his colleagues, or even his personal assistant, George. They would discover him gone on Monday morning. That was fine, perfect even, it gave him a full weekend to set himself up. He imagined how they would panic until they found his personal belongings missing and his mobile phone switched off. He smiled to himself as he drove out of the parking lot in his bright red BMW, his baby really.

Arthur prepared himself to turn his back on everything and everyone he knew. It was Friday, the sixteenth of December, right after his workday had ended, and all Arthur had brought with him were his keys, wallet, phone, and a small bag of immediate necessities for a new home; some bottled drinks, premade sandwiches, a roll of luxury toilet paper, basic toiletries and deodorant. Surely, that was all he’d need on the first night.

The snow slush on the road slowed down his escape from the city, and he felt paranoid all the way until he was out on the motorway. According to the weather report he’d heard that morning, it threatened to snow throughout the coming days.

 _Good_ , he thought, _then they can’t come and find me_.

Two hours later Arthur swore foully when he was stuck on the M4 in the midst of snowy traffic jams, after suffering the hell that was the M25 and then having been held up at Bath and again at the M5/Bristol junction. Now, less than two miles from his exit, he was thoroughly stuck again. He’d stood still for about an hour, unmoving, because some tiny Smart car had started spinning on the road, crashed into the guardrail and landed in a way that— bizarrely for such a small car—only the leftmost lane could be used. Winds and hail were making it hard for drivers to see as they were merging and tempers flared between everyone.

At long last, Arthur drove past the small wreck and saw its driver standing next to his vehicle, under a flimsy umbrella being pelted by hail and snow, quite bewildered but apparently fine. For a moment Arthur considered his luck on this icy night.

  
  


***

“Ætýne!”

The lock opened with ease, just a push of his mind and it sprung open with an audible click. He wheezed a laugh and proudly wiped his gloved hands off on his jacket. His boss would be so pleased with his results.

The stormy night was pitch black. He entered the building unseen. If his information was correct, he would certainly not be disturbed. He silently passed dark cabinets with rows and rows of products on display. He paid them no mind. There was only one goal for him tonight.

He knelt, checked North on his compass, and unfolded the small piece of paper. It had crumpled in his pocket and he ironed it flat before placing it on the floor. He took a deep breath and followed the instructions.

“Áwréon þú,” he spoke. His eyes darted across the dark shop, trying to make something out from among the towering cabinets. Nothing happened.

“Áwréon þú!” he said again, with more force.

His jaw dropped when this time a faint light was seen on one of the wooden floorboards. He scuttled over to it, long slender fingers stretching over the mark that became visible. It was etched into the wood, but nearly completely invisible. The magic had lit it up only for a moment.

He laughed again and rubbed his nose. He had done it! Shrugging the backpack off his back, he prepared himself for the next stage. The zipper was loud as he pulled it open across its length. He couldn’t wait to tell his boss how well this part had gone!

It was the zipper, he reflected moments later as he lay dying.

He never heard the sound that came from behind. He never felt the full force of the impact. Numb from the agony of his shattered skull, he twitched uncontrollably.

A shadow stretched out over the floorboard where the young man now lay still, a pool of blood leaking out from his head wound.

“Thank you,” a voice spoke as the person appeared before him. The last words he heard as he lay dying were, “You saved us a lot of trouble.”

  
  


***

After another few hours crossing through unseen countryside hidden by the thick veil of a nightly snowstorm, Arthur arrived at a small village called Camlot. It was situated near Nolton, overlooking St. Brides Bay, his new home. It was a small town by the sea and it had several charming cottages and some seaside tourism in the larger towns nearby. Camlot, the place where strange things didn’t happen very often. Or so Arthur believed.

He turned through the narrow roads towards his mother’s old home, Seren Wen, his heart thudding in his chest. He was almost free. At once, his onboard navigation began to twist and turn the roads around, and he got lost for a good half hour on pissy B-roads until he finally spotted the house he only knew from the handful of photographs he’d found. They had been stuffed away in dusty albums in the Pendragon Mansion back in London, from where he had secretly taken them without his father’s knowledge.

The stand-alone villa was dark, and the thick growth of trees surrounding it stood stark naked in the snowy landscape. Two rows of sturdy pines secluded it from neighbors on both sides. His closest neighbour down the lane would be a good forty feet away. He’d have his privacy here, a chance to get the dark cloud out of his mind and contemplate his place in life. He needed that. He was wasn’t at all sure who he was supposed to be, if he wasn’t actively living up to his father’s image. And it had sucked him dry.

As he took out the keys to open the front door, he heard a strange sound. He looked back over his shoulder and strained his eyes across the darkness. Nothing moved except for the thin, lazy swirl of snowflakes soundlessly making their journey down to their soft white bed on the ground. He looked up right as a cloud lit up. It looked like the moon was behind it. Or perhaps a plane. He sighed and shrugged, trying to stretch the tension out of his shoulders. He was looking forward to his soft white bed too. He turned the key in the lock and went inside, turning on the lights, releasing the house from blinding darkness.

“Bloody hell!”

There was nothing there. Apart from the old furniture belonging to the house, every room was empty. No boxes, no clothes, no food. He cursed.

Despite the late hour Arthur rang the moving company. It took him at least seven tries before someone picked up the phone on the other end. They explained with various apologies that their van had broken an axle on the road and was currently stationed at a nearby garage. They told him how it had taken them a considerable amount of time to find one able to handle a van this size. And how they had tried to reach him, but his phone had been out of order all day.

“I don’t care if you have to drag it over in person! What am I supposed to do now?”

“Sir, I understand—”

“No, you understand nothing. You will drive over _tonight_ and bring me my belongings!”

“We will move the van with all your items as soon as we can, sir. The repairs are—”

“Find another van!”

“That would be a costly operation,” the man began, but Arthur didn’t want to hear it.

“Even if you have to wake up fifty people, get moving! I’ll cover the additional expenses. No more excuses!” He hung up the phone and ran a hand through his hair. This was just _great._

He kept his jacket on and walked through the chilly house.The last renters had left the place two years ago and Arthur’s life had become too busy to find new ones. It had essentially remained untouched and unchecked for all that time. Last week Arthur had ordered it cleaned and inspected by a plumber, electrician and a chimney sweep.

The large rooms matched the outdoor temperature, and it was definitely freezing outside. Upon his personal inspection, the place appeared to be in a decent state. He turned on the central heating and located the switches to every possible light he could find on the ground floor. One of the bulbs on the ceiling in the living room was missing, so he’d have to go into town the next day for sure.

At the left side of the house he found the kitchen. It had an old, large wooden table without chairs, and there was a small assortment of pots and pans left, as well as a small microwave and a toaster. Across the hall was a large living room with tall ceilings. There stood the ugliest brown leather couch Arthur had ever seen, entirely chewed up on the armrests by age and a potential chain of malicious cats.

He turned on the light in the hall and climbed up the creaking stairs to find four sizeable bedrooms, two of which were still graced with some old furniture, and two bathrooms, all in reasonable order. The bed which stood in the largest bedroom was the only one that still had a thick mattress lying on top of it.

“Oh, hell yes!” he said and threw himself on top of it. A cacophony of creaks and squeaks echoed off the walls and tore through his tired mind. It felt like a snare was pulled right through his ears as the sounds reverberated through the empty room. A cloud of dust rolled up and enveloped him, finally freed from the stuffy sheet. “Oh, _hell no_.”

After further investigation Arthur discovered that unless he wanted to sleep on the cat-couch he’d have to make do with the bed. Even the loft Arthur had found was empty, apart from a broken cabinet and a small window looking out over the thatched roof, framing the ocean in the distance.

He sighed and swore, searched for towels—there were none to be had—swore some more, and made the bed up with the only sheets available in the house. One flimsy blanket remained and there were no pillows. His gentle heart breaking, he climbed in miserably, surrounded by mocking creaks that threatened to cascade through the room each time he moved. He shut his eyes with a frown and willed himself to sleep.

  
  


***

A young man collapsed onto a field, breathless and sore from his marathon run. Mist surrounded him in the early dawn. He would be safe. If only he could reach the safe area he had been shown before. A whooshing sound told him he wasn't out of the woods yet. It came closer. He panicked.

Forcing his sore legs to move, he clambered to his feet and kept running. He was bleeding from the cut on his arm and it began to tingle. The village was close. He could hear the church bells. They called out to him, singing their song of safety.

With frozen fingers the young man reached into his pockets with his good arm and took out the crystal. They would never forgive him. That much was clear already. And they were closing in on him.

“I know you're out there, Daegal.” A woman's voice.

The muscles in his thighs felt like concrete lit on fire but he ran onward, lungs burning. Cold sweat covered his forehead.

Almost.

Almost there.

An explosion behind him shook the ground and cleared the mist. He ducked into a ditch, cursing as his head scratched along a sharp stone. He kept still, very still.

A figure flew across the field and circled in search of him. He hid his face behind his scarf and tucked himself against the edge of the ditch. He spoke strange magical words, which blended his form into the background. It was just enough to hide and not enough to draw attention to himself. He didn't even dare to look up to the sky.

As she flew over his hiding place he held his breath. She didn't make any attempts to land. After several turns, the flapping disappeared.

She was gone.

He was safe.

Gathering his courage, he ran up out of the ditch and sprinted down the hill, only to bump straight into a figure dressed in black. A sharp pain exploded in his abdomen where the knife stuck deep.

“You…” he said, feeling nothing but the pain. “You said you wouldn’t do this.”

“So did you,” she said sadly, and twisted the knife.

Daegal fell to his knees and let go of his final breath before falling into a pool of his own blood, steaming on the cold earth. A hideous growl tore through the air. Claws and teeth shredded skin from bone until there was nothing left to indicate there had ever been a young man to cross the field.


	2. Grosser

Arthur had never slept in such cold conditions in his life. This included the one and only camping trip he had taken with his football team on their survival tour. One day in the cold, musty tent had seen him book a hotel for the rest of the trip, and him bulldozing through the bullying that followed. Arthur was not made for camping. And this felt exactly like that night, except even worse. This was quite possibly augmented not only by the fact that his toilet break would freeze his legs, but also because the cable company wouldn't be able to connect him for another fortnight, so no decent telly and, more importantly, no internet. To add insult to injury, he only seemed to be able to get a mobile signal by hanging out of the bathroom window and waving his phone around.

Waking up on that morning was therefore the worst thing he had ever experienced. He didn’t think for a moment that he’d made the wrong choice, however. He did think that the movers ought to have called him about their delay. They were supposed to have turned on the heating for him days ago. The rooms in the house had high ceilings, and that meant that Arthur didn’t expect the house to feel cosy until Friday at the earliest. Adding to his misery, he no longer had any food supplies. It left him cold and hungry, and he knew that if he sat still, he would start thinking about Sophia and his father. And that was unacceptable.

Determined to have only the best, or potentially not really knowing how to survive with less than, Arthur planned to set out to the village in his trusty car. His trusty car which wouldn’t open after the windows had frozen solid overnight with a layer of snow and ice combined. The receiver wouldn’t budge, no matter how much force he used on his press-key. His scraper and antifreeze were in the car as well. The doors didn’t even have physical locks, so there was no way to get in.

In a desperate attempt to clear the windows, he tried using his credit card, which snapped in half, and left the ice perfectly intact. Fortunately, he’d been smart enough to bring something along to light a fire with. At least, that’s what he presumed. He was sorely disappointed when he had turned all his bags upside down and inside out, and indeed found nothing in the process. He considered his options; there wasn’t a proper water boiler in the house, no bucket or container anywhere, and he wasn’t a smoker. He certainly wasn’t meant for survival.

Swearing royally, he set off on foot instead and followed the road towards the village centre. He was sure to find some supplies in the local store. He’d packed a wad of money, in case there was no ATM, and also to establish who he was, if necessary. He still wore yesterday’s clothing, his Levi Strauss jeans, his classy leather jacket and his high quality Gucci shoes. He stuffed his hands into his pockets and skidded his way across the slippery road, challenged by black ice and snow-covered potholes—what was this, some kind of joke?—until he reached the village centre at last.

It was a sunny, blisteringly cold morning, and the reflection of the four-inch layer of snow, which was the result of the freak storm Arthur was certain would be mentioned years down the line, nearly blinded him. Of course, his sunglasses were still inside his car. Feeling thoroughly sorry for himself, he passed by the fountain placed in the middle of the village centre, adorned with a large statue on top of a marble plinth. He paused for a moment and looked up.

He was glaring up at an old bearded man who looked down at him sourly, and who guarded a body of water in a deep basin around it with a sword and a shield cast from the same bronze as himself. The source of the fountain began in the large saucer decorated with strange words at the man’s feet. The water poured over the edge of the saucer into the basin below. A light steam rose from the water’s surface, as it rippled in ever widening circles.

Arthur turned away and ignored the work of art, as well as the church, the pub, and the florist, and eventually joined the queue outside a small picturesque shop that said ‘Gaius’s General Store’.

He blew warm air into his hands, observing the rest of the people in the queue. They all wore thick coats, much cheaper but much warmer looking than the jacket Arthur was wearing. Their trousers and boots looked much sturdier as well, though they might only be suited for working at farms, he observed. He conceded that they would be warmer than he was feeling, that was for certain. And their shoes wouldn’t be a ruined, soaking mess before the day was out, like his own threatened to become.

The tall man who stood in front of him turned around and looked down at him. Arthur, having had his fair share in life of being stared down upon by chinless snobs, glared back and lifted an eyebrow. He studied the man, the wool sweater that strained across his broad shoulders, and flat cap perched on top of his shorn head. He saw how his large hands were coated in dirt and filth, like he did little more than dust them off. His Wellies were even worse. The man wasn’t even wearing a coat like the other people here, as if he was some kind of outdoor giant. A niggling thought sprung up in the back of Arthur’s mind that he already missed Savile Row.

“Good day, sir,” the man said.

For a moment Arthur entirely forgot his upbringing, his manners, and even his own name. “Uh, good day. What’s up with the shop, why are we all standing outside?”

The tall man smiled and stepped aside so that Arthur could see. “It’s not open. My name is Percy Jones. You are new here?” He held out his hand and smiled kindly.

“Yes.” Arthur shook the hand reluctantly. He was not in the mood for casual acquaintances while he was freezing his fingers, feet, and several other appendages off. “Well, why isn’t it open?” More and more faces turned around to regard him.

“The sign says closed,” a dark-skinned man said, as if that explained everything. He was standing closest to the door. He wore a thick fur ushanka hat with ear flaps.

“So what the hell are we all standing out here for?”

The man in the hat turned to regard him and Arthur saw that he was the vicar. The man smiled a kind smile that did not reach his eyes and stepped forward to Arthur. The other curious people parted to let him make his way through.

“Young man,” he said, as though he wasn’t in Arthur’s age group. “If you let me know which hotel you’re staying at, I can arranged for you to be brought back. I’m certain they can accommodate you there.”

“I’m not staying in a hotel,” Arthur explained, trying to keep the poison from his voice after their presumptions.

A small, slender woman with a thick sky blue coat and a long white-blond braid tilted her head. She was petite, with sharp features and fierce blue eyes. “Where are you staying then?”

“I’m not… look, I’m your new neighbour up the lane. I live in Seren Wen.”

The collective gasp in the group staring at him was drowned out by the bell of the shop door opening. A woman stepped out wearing a thick blue jacket and a striped scarf. She also had dark skin and, Arthur noticed, kind eyes. Everyone collectively turned back to her, and she said, “I’m sorry, folks. The shop will remain closed today so I’d like you all to return to your homes. There’s been a terrible accident.”

“What happened?” Arthur snorted. “Did the sheep get loose?”

“Sir?”

“Who are you to tell us what to do?” Arthur demanded.

By now everyone had collectively turned around again, and they stared at him with concern. The lady with the thick blue jacket kept her cool, walked up to him and smiled. “My name is Police Constable Gwen Smith, and I’m the police officer in town. Please sir, go home.”

  
  


***

In desperate need of something to eat, Arthur refused to go home. Instead, he followed a handful of others towards the pub. Its ice-covered sign read ‘The Rising Sun’ and blinded him when it swung in the wind, directing the sunlight right into his eyes. Being in a pub on a Saturday morning was a terrible thing, Arthur thought, but the owners had been so kind as to open up for the villagers and were now serving coffee and tea.

The coffee wasn’t much to fill his belly with, but he was now at least fueled by something other than disdain for his terrible situation. The other villagers who had returned home were being asked to consume what they had stored in their pantries and freezers. Arthur’s home was empty—he had checked several times that morning.

He took a seat near the window in the front of the pub. From there he observed the happenings in front of the store. An old man was talking with the police officer. He presumed it must be Gaius the shopkeeper, because the man dangled his keys in front of her, and pointed at the shop several times. He was an old bent man with shoulder-length white hair and wore only green; everything including his scarf, gloves and even his flat cap were green. The man was a walking joke waiting to happen.

From his own observations he could already see that no glass was broken anywhere, and the door had looked fully intact. Apparently the keys were not used either. He sipped his coffee and narrowed his eyes, wondering what could have happened. His attention was piqued when the bartender, whose voice carried, explained how he thought he saw a figure lying on the floor from his vantage point. Apparently someone had expired among the groceries. That was certainly not a good thing.

Arthur sipped his coffee and tapped idly on the table. He checked his watch every few minutes. After a while, he decided to make himself as comfortable as possible, and stay put so that he could be the first one in the shop when it opened again. He needed to buy some proper breakfast, some towels, light bulbs and other basic necessities. The warm cup did a great deal to defrost his fingers while he silently begrudged the village the fact that they had only _one_ shop, and that their one little shop had a dead body in it. Just his luck.

On top of everything, his phone had lost its reception in the valley—though it mostly worked fine up the hill back at the house—and he was stuck with the absolutely tedious boredom of waiting. When PC Smith briefly glanced in his direction, he tapped his watch, signalling her to hurry up her business. She smiled at him and turned back around without giving any sort of response to his request. He huffed and jiggled his foot nervously.

Looking out the window, he observed several things at once: the footprints strewn across the snow, the string of purple graffiti over the brickwork on the side of the building, and the fact that almost everyone had listened to PC Smith's instructions and had left. Arthur was so absorbed in his observations that he barely noticed that someone was overlooking the events at the shop beside him.

“Hey, come on, that’s enough now.” The voice was gentle but reprimanding.

“Excuse me?” Arthur lifted his eyebrows and looked up at the young man standing beside his table.

“Let the police do their work. You sitting here won’t hurry them up.”

Arthur eyed the lad, he couldn’t have been more than twenty. He had black hair and blue, chiding eyes. He wore a thick brown coat and a bright red wool scarf twisted several times around his neck. This _kid_ was correcting his behaviour as if he knew what was best for Arthur. “I’ll sit where I bloody well want to sit. I’m waiting for the shop to open!”

“That might take a while. We haven’t had a murder in this town for… ehm, over twenty-five years or so.”

Arthur’s eyes widened. “A _murder?_ ”

The young man shrugged. “Well, I suspect that the young man didn’t just lay down there by himself…”

Arthur shook his head and swore. Both for whatever situation the poor sod had found himself in as well as for his own fate. He ran a hand through his hair, reluctant to reveal how sorry he felt for himself in front of others. “Is it always so cold here?”

“Well, you’re not halfway proper dressed, mate.” The young man looked him up and down curiously and smiled. “Have we met?”

Arthur offered his hand and said full of confidence, “Arthur Pendragon. I’m new to the village.”

“Yes you are. I’m Merlin.”

“Merlin what?”

“Sorry? Oh. Ambrose, I suppose. But we don’t really use surnames around here. Where are you from then?”

“London, but I’m originally from Windsor.” He offered Merlin a self-satisfied smile, knowing it would impress. When there appeared to be a particular lack of ‘ooh’ and ‘aah’ after that revelation, it rather threw him off.

“And you’re staying at Seren Wen? For how long?”

“It’s my house.”

Merlin raised his eyebrows. “I didn’t know it had been for sale. Surely Percy would have mentioned something about that…”

“Percy the sheep-shagger?” Arthur grinned.

Merlin didn’t grin back. “Ehm, yes he is the shepherd. He is also our estate agent.”

Arthur was perplexed. “You’re joking?”

Merlin chuckled and pulled the thick scarf more tightly around his neck. “No, he usually deals with all newcomers here.”

“What do you mean ‘deals with’?” Arthur suspected a scam.

“Shows them around, helps them get settled. I can show you around to the farm if you like—”

“I don’t want to go to any farm. I want to get some groceries!”

Merlin lifted his hands in defense and shrugged. “Why the rush, though?”

“What’s with the twenty questions?” Arthur said. He got up and rounded on him.

Merlin looked startled. “No offense meant. I’m a journalist. I thought I might do a piece about you. It’s not often we get new people in the village.”

“Save it. You’re not writing shit about me.” He drank his coffee too quickly, scalded his mouth and swore inwardly.

“What did you come here to do?” Merlin asked.

Arthur had enough of Merlin’s questions. He couldn’t think back about everything and everyone he left behind. Not now, not with a thousand more important things on his mind. He shook his head, pushed past him and out of the shop and stalked over to the General Store where PC Smith and the shopkeeper were talking.

“So, I understand that there’s been the little inconvenience of a murder in your shop, but is there _any chance_ that you’ll open today so I can get what I need?”

“Excuse me, you have no right to interfere like this,” PC Smith began, but Gaius put a hand on her forearm.

Arthur took a look inside and saw a body on the floor, covered in blood. “Oh, holy fuck!” Definitely a murder then, unless the poor bloke stumbled upon a pair of sheep shears. A moment later he felt PC Smith’s strong hand wrenching him away from the shop door. “Easy does it!” he complained.

“Let us do our work please, sir,” the police officer said and let him go.

“I don’t believe we’ve met,” Gaius said. “My name is Gaius, I’m the shopkeeper,” he offered pleasantly, as if that wasn’t already blatantly obvious or as if he didn’t have a dead man in his shop right that very minute.

Arthur didn’t have time for this. “What’s with all the names? Do you need a name to sell me your wares?”

“He’s from the big city,” came Merlin’s voice beside them. “Hello Gaius. Hello Gwen.”

“Oh, the big city, huh?” Gwen replied. “Well, city-boy, you are interfering with our investigation and I will kindly ask you to return to your home. We will visit you this evening for questioning.”

“Pardon me? _Questioning?_ ”

“Oh, everyone will be questioned,” Gaius said.

“I’ve only just _arrived_!”

“Right,” PC Smith replied sweetly. “You just arrived, and today we have a murder victim.”

“Very clever,” Arthur snapped. “But you forgot two things: you can’t call it a murder unless you’re certain that it is, and secondly what on _earth_ would my motive be? I don’t even know who’s in there!”

PC Smith blinked at him curiously and wrote something down in her police notepad.

“Who is it?” Merlin asked.

“It’s Cedric,” Gaius said. “Poor lad.”

“Shh,” Gwen turned to Gaius. “I told you we shouldn’t let it be known yet. It’s very delicate!”

Arthur watched the exchange and refrained, with great difficulty, from pulling his hair out. “This is insane!”

“You could drive out to the docks and buy some things there,” Merlin offered. “It’s a way out, but it’s got everything.”

“I would, if my car wasn’t frozen solid,” Arthur grumbled.

Merlin rolled his eyes. “Right, well… I’m off then. See you later, Gwen. Gaius, I hope your arm’s better.”

Gaius smiled. “Thank you, Merlin. It’s very good of you to offer him a ride.”

Arthur blinked.

“I hadn’t really…” Merlin began, pocketing his hands and shuffling with his feet in the snow.

“Go on then, and stop interfering,” PC Smith said. She tilted her head in a not-so-subtle indication for Merlin to leave and to please take Arthur with him. As if Arthur wasn’t standing right there and witnessing the process.

“Oh, no thank you. I will manage quite fine by myself!” Arthur stormed back the way he came from, feet freezing, and willing the late morning sun to try its best just a little harder so that he could get his car to open. He climbed the hill and heard footfalls in the snow behind him.

Arthur glanced over his shoulder. “Will you stop following me?”

Merlin shrugged awkwardly. “I can’t help it. This is my way home. I live next door to you, mate.”

Arthur stopped and turned around. Merlin stopped too and looked up at him, hands in his pockets and nose buried in the thick red scarf. His clothes, including his good winter boots, looked quite old and tattered. Everything except the bright blue of his eyes, which were vibrant and captivating.

“So, how do you know Ygraine du Bois?” Merlin asked. “You know she was the last owner, right?”

“Oh, sod off,” Arthur said and continued up the hill. “Mind your own business.”

“It’s my business to mind everyone’s business, mind you.”

Arthur repressed a grin and turned up his driveway, where he saw a shady figure standing beside his car.

“Oy!” he shouted and broke into a run on the slippery ground. He skidded and slipped up his lane, where the shady figure revealed itself to be the tall man from earlier, Percy Jones he recalled, appearing from behind his car.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Arthur asked.

“This is a very nice car you have. You arrived last night?”

“That’s right,” Arthur said, standing next to his frozen vehicle protectively.

Percy squinted at the car, looked up at the clouds and back at the car. “Around one o’clock in the morning, right?”

Arthur looked at his vehicle. It looked fine, untouched even, judging by the layer of frost covering every surface. He eyed the tall man. “That’s right.” Behind him he heard Merlin approaching casually as the snow crunched under his feet.

“Well, I’ve dropped some pamphlets in your mailbox. I can show you around some time if you want. As a sort of welcome, to the village, I mean.”

Arthur wanted to get rid of the man somehow, but found that the kindness of the offer disarmed him. “Okay…” He glanced at Merlin who was observing his car. “Well, I’d like to invite you inside for tea and cookies…” Arthur quickly stepped forward when Percy turned towards Arthur’s front door with a pleasant smile, obviously expecting tea and cookies. “But I don’t actually _have anything in the house_ at the moment.”

“Oh that’s alright,” Percy said.

“No, I mean, I don’t have _anything_. My movers haven’t even arrived yet.”

“What happened?” Merlin asked.

“Their van broke down.” Arthur stopped and looked at Merlin. “Do you always do this… thing?”

“What thing?”

“With all the questions.”

Merlin shrugged. “Did you want a ride to Asda? I was thinking to head out there myself, anyway.”

“The one by the docks?” Percy inquired.

“Yes, did you need anything?”

Percy began listing several items of farm tools and materials, and Arthur was left to guess what they all meant. Merlin simply nodded and seemed to be mentally listing it all down, until the whole list turned into an endless string of spaghetti and Arthur simply had to interrupt them.

“Well, yes if you need that much, why don’t you just open a store over on this side? Then you’ll have all the farm goods you need, right at hand.”

“Not a bad idea,” Percy stroke his chin and Arthur tried hard to ignore the smudges of dirt left behind.

“Well, if you’re volunteering,” Arthur said, turning back to Merlin. “Can we go?”

Merlin blinked at him. “Ehm. Yes. I think we’re all set. See you later at the pub, Percy?”

“Alright then. See you later, Merlin. Good day, uh….”

“Arthur Pendragon.”

“Alright, Arthur. Let me know if you need me to show you anything,” Percy offered and stuck his dirty hands into his pockets and headed back down the lane. “That puts you in the clear, by the way,” he said as he walked away.

“What do you mean?”

Percy paused and threw a look back over his shoulder. “The first estimate is that the victim died last evening just after supper. It means you couldn’t have done it. Or Merlin, he was out too.” He waved and walked back down the lane.

Merlin stared after Percy, chewing his bottom lip.

“Well?” Arthur asked, not knowing what else to say.

“Well what?” Merlin asked, turning to him with an innocent expression.

Right at the moment Arthur started to complain, his mobile phone rang. He recognised the number as belonging to the movers. The movers!

“Yes!” he practically shouted into the phone, instantly ignoring Merlin. “You’re on your way? Good! When will you—No. Wait. That’s just not acceptable. Tonight. No excuses. Then I will take care of it. Okay, well that’s the least _I_ can expect, isn’t it?” He hung up and sighed. “For fuck’s sake…”

“Are you always like that?” Merlin asked him. He spoke softly and without imposing.

“Like what?”

“Are you in a hurry for something?”

Arthur pinched the bridge of his nose. “Look, you barely even know me. This place is empty and freezing and I haven’t had anything proper to eat since yesterday’s lunch, and now these guys want me to make them dinner! When there’s no food to be had!”

“You’re right, the pub will probably be full tonight, with everyone seeking a meal there.”

“Oh, great!” Just when there was an apt solution, sending the movers to fend for themselves, that opportunity seemed useless as well.

“Do you cook?”

“No! I don’t!”

Merlin’s eyes sparkled with cheek, but he refrained from replying.

“Don’t even start,” Arthur warned him. He took out the keys to his car and stabbed the unlock button. Still frozen shut. His car still wouldn’t open.

Merlin simply stepped aside and gestured for Arthur to follow him. “We’ll take my car then,” he said. “It’s not much but it’ll get us to Asda and back.”

Arthur took a deep breath, bracing himself for whatever else this day had to throw at him. "Okay," he said. "Let's go."

  
  


***

A woman with dark hair pulled her checkered scarf more tightly around her neck as she hurried along the road. She turned up the lane to an old abandoned building where a young man awaited her.

“Are you out of your mind?” he complained and stomped out a cigarette.

The woman pocketed her hands, shivering against the cool winds. “She wants to see you,” she said.

He took a step forward and grabbed her shoulders. “Are you certain? Did she say that?”

“Yes. Ow, let me go!”

He pulled his hands back quickly and wiped his nose with the back of his sleeve. “When does she want to see me?”

The woman rubbed her shoulder. “Right away.”

“Thank you,” he breathed out in a cloudy puff. “Whatever you said to her… Thank you.” His relief was clear on his face.

She shook her head. “I did what I could. That’s why she will see you, but…”

He held up a hand in front of her face menacingly, aiming a finger directly at her. “I know I failed, but I will make this right.”

The woman stared at him and gave a small nod. “You need to. For all of us.”


	3. Good Tastes

“You have got to be kidding me,” Arthur complained as he folded himself double in the small blue Fiat 500 which Merlin seemed to refer to as ‘car’. It was at least twenty years old and smelled of ‘used’, and of old wiring.

“Well, it’s got four wheels and a roof,” Merlin said with a smile. He cranked up the heating and they drove off with a big roar of the small engine up the hill.

“No CD-player even?”

“Just tapes I’m afraid.”

“Ugh. How do you survive this?” Arthur asked, incredulously. “It pisses me off that I don’t have more than one USB port in mine. I can’t even connect my phone and my tablet together!”

Merlin shot him another smile. “We don’t need all that fancy stuff around here.” He drove slow and with care along the frozen roads, and extra carefully around any pedestrians, cyclists or stray flocks of farm animals.

Arthur sighed and thought about what Merlin had said. He remained quiet for a while, rolled his seat back slightly and acknowledged, “That’s what I’m here to do, you know. Get a fresh start, fit in… Without all the fancy stuff.”

Merlin cast him a curious glance. “You’ll be living here then?”

He shrugged. “For a few weeks. I’ll have to go back eventually…” He had known that Seren Wen would be empty and he hadn’t wanted to live without furniture. Part of him knew that he also wanted to make a statement to Sophia. It said that he would leave, that he _could_ leave her, and everything they had built over the years. So he had taken everything with him. It felt good to keep his comfort while he tried to sort himself out.

They drove down an incline, leaving the hilly landscape and crossed narrow roads intersecting large outstretched fields covered in a thin layer of snow. Free from the task of driving, Arthur allowed himself to be immersed by the scenery. This was what he had missed seeing last night, driving through the snowstorm.

He let his gaze pass over the wild and rough landscape; small cottages, ancient broken fences likely over a century old, gnarled trees even older than that. He felt himself relax, despite all his worries, and remained lost in thought for some time until he noticed more and more buildings. Then Merlin turned the corner over the last hilltop and Arthur stared out over the docks in the distance. The midwinter sun hung low in the sky and it created a cascading display of light over the water.

His breath was taken away momentarily. “What river is this?”

“Cleddau Ddu,” Merlin answered.

Arthur had no idea what he just said. “Right.” He shifted in his seat, as the car had become swelteringly hot. “So, who do you think did it?”

“Sorry?”

Arthur looked sideways at Merlin. “This fellow in the General Store?”

“I have no idea. It wasn’t me. I wasn’t even in the village.”

“So Percy said. Will they ‘question’ you too?” Arthur asked. The word was unpleasant in his mouth, gritty like dirt.

“Undoubtedly. I suppose it’s procedure, don’t you think?”

“Does this sort of thing happen often?”

“Of course not. We’ve had some strange deaths over the years, but… nothing like this.”

Arthur shook his head. Each village would have their own stories, he was sure of it. “How long will the shop remain closed?”

“Couple of days at least, I’d wager…”

“God, I’m famished,” Arthur said. They just pulled up to the parking lot. He immediately noticed a dessert truck full of pastries and other sweet food parked in the corner of the lot, on the dockside. It stood opposite a row of industrial stores, one with kitchens, the other showcasing bathrooms, between which the Asda was stuffed less than elegantly.

Merlin parked close to the food truck, which had thick diagonal red stripes over the side, with large, pink, tacky letters printed over it spelling ‘Sweets’. Arthur’s stomach made an audible noise of complaint right as the engine shut off and Merlin laughed at him.

“Shut up,” Arthur said.

“Look, you can really be a bit of an arse…”

“Not you, my stomach!” he said, climbing out of the car.

The weather at the docks was far more pleasant, though the cool winds still cut across his cheeks. The heat from the car really had been on the verge of tropical sauna, and so stepping out was both a relief and a horror at once. He felt guilty for all his snapping while he’d gotten a ride all the way here, and he certainly didn’t want to be left here if Merlin decided he was too much of an arse to take back to the village. So he offered, “I’m going to get something sweet. Do you want anything?”

Merlin licked his lips and smiled. The wind ruffled through his thick, black hair as he seemed to consider it.

Arthur stared. There was something in that smile that caught his eye. He swallowed and walked over to the food truck. Merlin followed. He wedged himself inside the narrow marquee tent, trying to stay to one side, so that he was out of the wind. He saw that Merlin had wound his thick scarf over his nose and was closing his eyes against the stormy winds, so he made some more room in the corner for him. Merlin took the invitation gratefully and pulled the scarf down again.

“What’ll you have?” he asked.

“Apple turnover,” Merlin said, unabashedly staring at all the sweet food on display.

“With sugar?”

“Is the sky blue?”

“Right, right,” Arthur said and grinned. He ordered two apple turnovers and paid from his wad of money, careful that the notes wouldn’t go flying. He saw Merlin glance at the money with wide eyes. He stuffed it back into his inside pocket and offered Merlin the warmed up turnover and took a bite of his own.

“Oh my god,” he said, while chewing, completely forgetting his manners.

“Mhmm,” Merlin agreed with him.

“Holy fuck, this is good,” he said and heard a cough behind him. He apologised to the old lady who was selling them and said, “These are the best I’ve ever had. They’re great. And I should know, I’m from London!”

She looked less than impressed.

Merlin was taking huge bites from his and colour rose to his cheeks while he ate. “Foodgasm, right here,” he said and snickered.

Arthur laughed, for the first time in days, perhaps even weeks. A real laugh. It felt refreshing. They stayed for several minutes, sheltering from the wind and filling their bellies with sweet pastry. Merlin licked his fingers once he was done and Arthur had to turn his gaze away. Something was stirring that he’d repressed for many years, bubbling and coiling deep within him, wanting to be let out. But he wasn’t there yet, he wasn’t ready to face that part of himself. He was too broken.

He checked his Rolex for the time. “So, I’ll get what I need. Meet you back here in an hour?”

Merlin glanced at him curiously. “Ehm, yeah sure,” he said with a shrug.

Once more, stepping out into the cool air was a relief, this time to cool the burning of his cheeks.

  
  


***

Arthur stood outside the cash register with three crates of food, drinks, and other items he needed in his home. He had made two complete circuits of the shop to ensure he hadn't forgotten anything and it had only taken him forty minutes. Now he was waiting for a sign of Merlin, while waiting outside in the hall of the shop. Apparently, he was taking one hour quite literally. He swore and left his crates at the information desk, and went outside to make some personal arrangements.

Ten minutes later, when Arthur was back in the hall beyond the cash registered and quite literally bored out of his mind, Merlin appeared with what seemed like a truckload of wares. He eyed all the boxes and bags of stuff that were filled on the other side of the register. When Merlin greeted him, Arthur was glaring at him.

“How do you expect to fit all of that into your car?”

He shouldn’t have asked, Arthur reflected on the way back, covered with bags and boxes all over his lap, resting on his knee and blocking any view he might have had of the area on the way home. The seats in the back as well as the miniature trunk were all filled to the top as well.

“Most of it is for Percy,” Merlin offered.

“I don’t _care_ ,” Arthur complained.

“Did you get any clothing?” Merlin asked.

“No. The movers will bring my clothes.”

“Are they warm enough?”

“We’ll see. Your crappy winters don’t get much colder than this, do they?”

Merlin short Arthur a murderous glare, opened his mouth to say something, but bit his lip instead. He gripped the steering wheel and took the next turn with more speed than before, which threw Arthur halfway against the door.

“Oy,” Arthur said. “What’s with you?”

“Ehm, never mind.”

Great. Now he’d made enough of an arse out of himself that Merlin couldn’t stand him. He felt annoyed at himself. Here he was, acting out the city-boy, while he was supposed to be trying to fit in. At the same time, he knew it wouldn’t work that way. He couldn’t pretend like he was one of the villagers simply by showing up in their clothes and talking like they talked. And if he couldn’t start finding who he really was, by trying to be himself, then what good was this whole trip? Only… if this was him beginning to figure out who he was, then perhaps he wasn’t so happy with who that person turned out to be.

Before he knew it they were back in the village. Arthur had spent most of the return trip lost in his dark thoughts, the only thing of interest he saw was a couple fighting beside the road. The woman was beating the guy against his chest multiple times. Arthur had turned his head to look, but the boxes had been in the way.

Merlin pulled up to his own driveway. It was a stand-alone house built low and secluded, just like Arthur’s beside it, only much smaller. It had with two floors and what might have been a richly tended garden in summer.

“Do you need a hand?” Merlin offered as he turned off the engine.

“I’m fine,” Arthur said and maneuvered himself out of the small car, trying his best not to drop anything. He’d have to start making an effort here, he realised. “Look, actually, let me help you get all of this inside. You’ll freeze to death before it’s all there.”

“Won’t your movers arrive soon?”

“Those lazy sods had better, if they know what’s good for them,” he began. But seeing Merlin’s punitive glance, he added, “I’ll get a call when they do.”

Merlin picked up several boxes at once and began walking to his front door.

Arthur did the same, only he tried to also lift some of the shopping bags with it, because, well—why walk three times when you can do everything in one go?—and followed.

The door opened and Arthur felt the heat escape from several feet away. Apparently Merlin kept his home as warm as his car. It felt like stepping into an oven. He regretted carrying so many things at once, as he pushed through the small hallway, because he was instantly sweating in his coat.

“Kitchen’s through here,” Merlin said and pushed open the door.

Arthur dropped his load on the kitchen table and looked around. Merin’s house was homey, with thick curtains against the cold, a large variety of jars stacked on shelves and pans hanging from hooks. Most of the furniture was made of a dark wood, and though there were few patterned decorations, the fabrics that covered the seats of the chairs, the table and the potholder were all in warm colours that felt snug to the point he nearly felt dizzy.

“Do you live with your parents?” Arthur asked out of interest.

“Ehm, no. They’re deceased. It’s just me living here.”

And he felt like an arse, again.

After the second trip from the car, they had got all Merlin’s and Percy’s belongings inside and Arthur wiped his forehead, not from the exertion but from the sheer heat indoors. Something large and furry jumped onto the table besides him and made him startle.

“Well, hello there,” Arthur said to the massive cat that was eyeing him. It had a long fur coat, a thick mane around its neck, and an enormously bushy tail.

“That’s Kilgharrah. He’s not very friendly I’m afraid,” Merlin explained, walking in and turning on the kettle as he passed it.

“Is he a Maine Coon?” Arthur asked, holding out his hand for the cat to sniff. Merlin took out two cups from a cabinet and Arthur eyed the back of his head curiously, observing the curve of his neck now that it had been freed from that ridiculous scarf. He shivered when the cat suddenly started licking his hand with its rough tongue.

“Yeah, I think so,” Merlin replied and raised an eyebrow when he turned around and noticed the cat’s behaviour. “Well, that’s a first.” He smiled genuinely.

That smile again. Arthur’s head became a strange fog of delight, sending off alarm bells. “Uh, I should head out.”

“Oh.” Merlin put the tea cups down on the table in front of him.

“Thanks though, here’s some petrol money,” he placed some bills on the table and turned away. He had to get out and clear his mind. He was already inside someone’s house before he’d even set up his own.

“That’s really not necessary,” he heard Merlin say.

“Yeah uh, keep it. Thanks again,” he said and he was out of the door. He turned to pick up his crates right beside the door and noticed a symbol with three curling arms chiseled into the stone stairs leading down from the front door. He shrugged and carried his crates home.

  
  


***

Later that day a large car pulled up at a posh mansion on the outskirts of Camlot. The private domain was circled by a large fence and cameras looking up and down in all directions scanned the areas from various corners of the old mansion. Several people helped an older man out of the car and inside, where he was greeted by all the comfort a man could want.

“Sir, what would be your plan for tomorrow?” a stately butler asked in quiet, respectful words.

The man looked up and narrowed his eyes. He rolled the contents of his expensive drink around in the glass he had been offered. “I’m going to protect my investment.” He stood in his study, surrounded by his collection of expensive books and artwork.

“Very well, sir. Is there anything else you require tonight?”

The man seated himself behind a large oak desk. “I will need the mayor’s phone number. She will know where to start.”

“But sir,” the butler sputtered, “I thought you were keen to stay away from people like her?”

“Oh I am.” He played with a large golden ring on his ring finger. “But if she has the stone, I will quickly find out. And call your inside contact. We need to make sure the police doesn’t find anything.”

“Of course, sir,” the man bowed stiffly.


	4. Nose Deep

On the second morning Arthur woke up far happier in his new home. The house was nowhere near warm, but at least he had his own king-size bed put in place in the master bedroom, and all his labeled boxes and belongings were now placed in the right rooms. Today he would simply put his belongings where they should go and call a painter to see about some improvements. 

He dressed in easy clothes and went downstairs, footsteps creaking through the quiet house. Although it was no longer sub-zero, and the roaring central heating was doing its best day and night, Arthur’s breath came out in clouds as he entered the kitchen. The only thing he hadn’t thought about was firewood. For the first time in his life he owned a hearth and he had no idea where to get wood to burn it. He considered calling an interior decorator and having a gas fire installed that he could turn on with a switch. 

The whole house was a mess, but Arthur decided that the kitchen was the worst of all. After offering the movers microwaveable dinners despite the sheer lack of professional conduct, he had kicked them out as soon as it was remotely decent. Now he was ready to make this house his kingdom. 

Over breakfast he checked his phone. There were no messages. Then again, it was a Sunday morning so he didn’t really expect anything. He wondered what Sophia was doing. In an instant, he could imagine as if everything was like before. 

He remembered what they had shared. Waking up lazy Sunday mornings in their richly decorated home with all convenience close at hand. It was Arthur’s home, really, but it had been hers too for the past two years. They would cuddle in the morning and then she would set off to do her own business while he went to the gym and did some more work. They would meet again for dinner and sometimes spend the evening together, if Sophia wasn’t meeting her friends. 

He longed for those feelings, or at least part of them. He didn’t want Sophia anymore, but he missed the intimacy, even if it wasn’t very close or passionate. He thought that in the coming days, he would rue his sentiment. He expected that she would not show any kindness at all, after she would discover that he had gone. In fact, he was already steeling himself against it bitterly. 

The church bells rang in the distance, helping to break him free from his morose thoughts. He downed his coffee and tried to shake the feeling off. It was time for a new start and he knew exactly where to begin. He hooked up his sound system, put on some loud music to drown out the church bells, and set to work. 

He kept himself warm by cleaning and unpacking his ridiculous amount of boxes. He wiped down the cabinets and shelves, placing everything he owned where it would be perfect, while furiously singing along with the dumbest songs from his playlist. It felt good to work hard, it was almost like going to the gym. He would miss going to a proper gym, but fortunately he had his exercising machines and weights placed in one of the bedrooms upstairs. He almost couldn’t believe the movers when they said they wouldn’t bring the machines upstairs. It was like they didn’t take their job seriously at all! 

He was vacuuming like a maniac just around lunch time, having dressed down to wearing slacks and a tank top, sweaty and dirty from cleaning all morning, when he thought his speakers sounded odd. It was only after a minute that he realised that that was the sound of the doorbell. 

He turned off the vacuum cleaner, sped down the hall and opened the door to find PC Smith, the vicar, another man he didn’t know, and Merlin standing outside his door and looking thoroughly concerned at him. 

“What happened?” was the first question out of his mouth. They were looking at him as if the same question occurred to them. 

“We’re here to ask you some questions,” PC Smith announced. She was unsuccessfully suppressing a smile and Arthur wondered how long they had stood there waiting. 

“Formally or informally?” Arthur challenged her. 

“Formally,” she said. “At least, for my part.” 

“Well, come on in. I’m not done with the place yet, but…” Before he had finished his sentence, the vicar had stepped inside already and began to look around. “…Make yourself at home?” 

“Hi, I’m Doctor Lance DuLac, the local GP,” the fourth man introduced and held out his hand. “You must be Arthur.” 

He shook Lance’s hand briefly. “Right. Have a seat… wherever.” 

There were two corner couches now stuffed into the living room making almost a perfect circle. There were various large, lazy chairs, and the room was strewn with an array of tools and equipment. Most areas were still covered with a layer of dust. He didn’t quite enjoy having anyone visit while the place was unfinished, but he wasn’t sure that turning away a police officer, vicar, doctor and—well, _Mer_ lin—would go down. He offered them several bottles of cool drinks and a stack of cups and excused himself to go freshen up. 

Just as he was about to leave for his room upstairs, the vicar stopped him in the hall with a hand on his arm. 

“We didn’t see you at church today,” he said calmly. 

“I was rather busy,” Arthur replied, sweeping out his arms to indicate the state of his place. 

“The Lord does not answer to those who do not seek his guidance,” the man said with a soft yet urgent voice. 

“Right. That’s comforting to know. Now, I’m going to freshen up and then you can ask all the questions you’d like.” 

Ten minutes later he came down the stairs again, dressed in one of his finest gray pant suits and wearing a high-quality, dark burgundy shirt, with the top two buttons opened. He was just putting his Rolex back on his wrist when he saw all eyes staring at him. 

“You said formally,” he said. 

“Mister Pendragon, we’re only here to ask you a couple of basic questions,” PC Smith said. 

“Oh, it’s ‘Mister Pendragon’ now, is it?” He was satisfied to see the police officer slightly surprised and uncertain how to handle herself. “Why isn’t the Detective Inspector doing the interviews? Why am I even on your list? I wasn’t even in the village at the time.” 

“If you don’t mind, sir, we’d like to do our job our way,” PC Smith said stately, collecting herself and picking up her police notepad from a pink and white polka-dot backpack.

Arthur stared at it. 

“Do you have any coffee?” Lance asked. “It’s rather chilly in here.”

“Certainly,” Arthur said and left for the kitchen. He had a luxurious De’Longhi coffee machine, and he fiddled with the settings as it had just been refilled. When he closed the panel of the machine he noticed Merlin standing in the doorway to his kitchen. “Yes?” he asked, while he pressed the button for the coffee. 

“I actually only came here to bring this back. I was headed that way after all.” Merlin held out the money Arthur had given him the previous day. 

“Look, keep it. I don’t care… I don’t really need it.” 

“Yeah, I can see that. But that’s not how I do things. Thanks anyway.” As Arthur wasn’t accepting the notes, he placed them on the kitchen table. 

“Look, thanks, but _really_ …” 

“Do you always dance while you’re cleaning?” 

Arthur lifted his eyebrows at him. Merlin’s eyes looked somewhat cheeky. Damn, had they seen him? He suddenly became very uncomfortable. 

Merlin noticed too and shrugged. “I’ve got to go.” 

“Wait,” Arthur began, but the coffee machine beeped, having completed Lance’s perfect cup of perfect coffee. He took the cup from the machine and heard the front door open and close. 

He regarded the notes on the kitchen table. Three notes of fifty pounds each. He realised that the whole trip couldn’t have cost more than twenty. _Shit,_ he thought to himself, _that was stupid_. He had probably offended him somehow. He glanced out of the kitchen window but saw nothing despite the day being clear and sunny. Had he ran?

“Oh, thanks,” Lance offered with a smile when he was handed his coffee moments later. 

“When you’re ready,” he announced, lifting a hand in PC Smith’s direction. He made it a point to ignore the vicar though. 

“Okay, Mister Pendragon, do you have any relation to our murder victim?” 

“I don’t even know who it is. Do you have a photo perhaps?” 

PC Smith opened her file, browsed through some hand-written papers and handed a photograph to Arthur. It was of a young man, with brown shoulder length hair and a small moustache. He looked like the sort who lived on benefits, spent all their money on cigarettes and drinks, and definitely a soap dodger. There was a crease of worry etched into the lines across his forehead. For someone so young, it looked off. He wore a sporty jacket, but didn’t look like he actually did any sports. 

Arthur shook his head. “Cecil you said?” 

“Cedric,” PC Smith corrected him. “Cedric Meyers. He was under the employment of a Mister Sigan, do you know him?” 

“I’m afraid not.” 

“He ran a jewelry business in London, ‘Golden Crow’, quite successful,” Gwen pressed. “Their phone lines have been disconnected since yesterday. Does this sound familiar to you in any way?”

“Uh, no.”  

“You’re from London, right?” 

“Yes, that’s right. Chelsea.” 

“Do you work there?” 

“Not anymore,” he said, though that wasn’t entirely true. He hadn’t officially quit his job yet. 

“What sort of work did you do?” 

“I’m a corporate lawyer, which means I arrange cases around employment, intellectual property, mergers, and acquisitions.” 

PC Smith turned her sheet of paper and started to scribble something Arthur couldn’t read from his seat. 

This time it was the vicar who spoke. “Then why did you come to live here? We offer none of those jobs here.” 

“I was hoping to change my scenery,” he offered with a smile. “Meet some friendly people. Do you offer that here?” 

The vicar smiled thinly at him. “Contrary to what you might think, we’re actually a very tight-knit community.” 

“I never suspected otherwise,” Arthur replied. 

“What are you planning to do with this house?” 

“This place? Uh, fix it up. I need to get some walls plastered and painted, do you know anyone for that?” 

“Excuse me for interrupting, I just have to ask, will you be staying here?” It was Lance who asked the question this time. 

“I expect for some time at least.” 

“Is there any particular medication you use? I normally have to order it by telephone, and well, it might take a while for anything in particular to arrive.” 

“Er, might I discuss that in private?” 

“Naturally, come and see me tomorrow.” 

PC Smith closed the file and stretched out her hand to get the photo back. “Could it be that you met Cedric in London in any part of your business?” 

“Even if I have, he left no impression on me. I meet a lot of people.” 

“Don’t worry,” Lance said, “we just need to ask these questions. Percy already said you’re not among our suspects.” 

“Who is?” Arthur asked out of curiosity. 

“That’s police business,” PC Smith said with a smile, stuffing the file back into her polka-dot backpack. 

“I’m sure you know what you’re doing,” Arthur said. Something felt off though. Why would they want to know all these things about him? And why was Merlin here just now…? “Also, I want none of this information printed anywhere in the papers. I do not give you permission for that.” 

“Don’t worry,” the vicar said. “Your secrets are safe with us.” 

Arthur wasn’t quite sure what that meant, but he showed them out and started pondering. After their departure, things were very quiet in the house and it set Arthur into a thinking mood. 

Seeing a police officer tackle an interview together with a priest and a doctor was rather odd. On top of that, this murder was smearing a stain over his otherwise perfect arrival. He thought about something that Merlin had said. There had been some strange deaths… What if those hadn’t been strange deaths at all? 

To his own surprise his first thought was to call Sophia. He picked up his phone and looked at his lock screen. No, that would be the _worst_ idea possible. He ached to talk about it though. He couldn’t very well visit the pub and ask everyone about strange deaths in the village. He didn’t know who to trust yet. The villagers seemed nice, but… one of them was probably a murderer! The thought struck him like a hammer. If he didn‘t watch his back, or if he waved his cash about too blatantly, he could become a target too. 

He thought about the people he knew so far. PC Smith would probably not listen to him seriously, the vicar seemed entirely unconcerned and Lance, well, he had yet to make up what sort of man he was. Either of those three could have been the killer, he realised. The only people he felt he might confide in were Merlin and Percy. They certainly did not do it. Merlin had been out of town, and if Percy was by the road observing traffic, then he was nowhere near the village centre. 

He decided to talk to his neighbour about it. He shrugged into his jacket and walked down to the road and turned left, up the lane to Merlin’s house. He paused when Merlin’s car wasn’t there, but then he decided to check it out and walked up to the house anyway. Once he got there, he noticed he was being watched. 

“You won’t find him here, mate,” came a voice from the road. “You must be Arthur.” 


	5. Transparency

Arthur spun around to see a man with thick brown curls that swept his jawline standing on the sidewalk next to the road with his hands in his pockets. After a moment’s observation, he recognised him as the same man who had been in that massive fight by the road the day before. 

“Yes, I am.” He trotted back through the cracking snow towards the roadside. 

The man gave him an easy grin. “My name’s Gwaine. I believe you needed a painter?” 

Arthur looked him up and down. He wore work clothes, including steel toed boots and a pair of dark gray work trousers with blotches of paint and flakes of plasterboard all over them. “I only mentioned that half an hour ago to PC Smith.” 

“Oh, Gwen? Her brother Elyan gave me a call. I thought I’d stop by and see if I could be of use to you.” 

“Elyan?” 

“Father Elyan Smith, the vicar. He said you met him. Had a great deal of good things to say about you.” 

“Really?” Arthur didn’t believe that for a second. 

Gwaine’s shrug and apologetic grin told him something similar. “Something of the sort.” 

Arthur considered it. He felt rather paranoid. This man could be the murderer. Or perhaps he was set to spy out Arthur’s belongings. No, this was ridiculous. A vicar recommended him. Surely, in such a small village the person who got to hear everyone's confessions would have an inkling who would be the murderer? He couldn't be made of killer material, or the vicar would know.

Besides, if anything, he ought to get to know the villagers here, in order to try to fit in. He wasn’t quite sure yet how to do that with a killer on the loose. “Okay. Well, are you free now to take a look?” 

The man had an easy grin. “Haven’t got anywhere else to be.” 

“Follow me then.” He turned back to his home. “Out of curiosity, do you know where Merlin went?” 

“No one ever really knows. He goes on road trips, sometimes for days.” 

“Days? But there’s nothing to do around here!” 

“Wouldn’t say that. He might be off to take some walks on the beach or see someone special.” 

“A relative?” 

“He’s got none, mate. I suggest you don’t bring it up, though. This town is basically his family now.” 

“How about you, have you lived here all your life?” Arthur asked and opened the door to Seren Wen, holding it open for… “What was your name again?” 

“Gwaine. Easy going on that brain of yours.” He knuckled Arthur on the head and passed into the house without further invitation. “I like what you’ve done with it so far.” 

“You knew this place before?”

“Yes, when the Caerleons lived here. They rented this place, right? So, where’s the damage?” 

  
  


*** 

Some time later, Gwaine and Arthur were sitting round the kitchen tables with some tea. They had made a plan to strip away the wallpaper in one of the rooms upstairs and paint the room afresh. Gwaine would return later that week to begin his work. Arthur had learned that Gwaine Orkney was married to Eira, who was from Camlot, but that he had only been living here for the last couple of years. Apparently it took a while for the villagers to trust newcomers. Arthur had replied that he understood and he was also not easily trusting. Apart from Merlin, he had added for the sake of conversation. 

Merlin, he learned from Gwaine, was an odd duckling. He had no parents, no other relatives and lived alone with his surly cat. He wrote pieces for an irregular paper which were well-written but didn’t seem all that deep. And his road trips were common apparently. Arthur found himself intrigued, but thought it better not to press too much. 

“Sorry for prying, but… Was it you and Eira I saw arguing on the road yesterday?” 

Gwaine leaned back in his chair and sighed. “I guess. That’s… I still can’t believe she did that…” 

“Did what?” Arthur asked, finishing his tea. “Hit you?” 

“Nah,” Gwaine said and ran a hand through his hair. Arthur’s eyes were caught following the intriguing gesture but then he noticed that Gwaine was genuinely upset. “Eira, she, uh… I don’t know quite how to put this.” 

“Had an affair?” 

“That would be how to put it, I suppose.” 

“Then why was she the one hitting you?” 

Gwaine offered a lopsided smile and waved dismissively with his hand. “That’s just how she expresses herself sometimes.” 

Arthur frowned. He got up from the table and put the tea away. He replaced it with a bottle of Captain Morgan and two shot glasses. “This seems in order.” 

“Are you a mind reader?” His quick grin was back. Arthur suspected he used it as a weapon, because it was sharp and infectious. 

“No, but I just went through the same.” It still stung. Even if he wasn’t certain whether he loved Sophia, or whether he ever really had. His feelings were a mess, and they threatened to bubble up again. 

“Really, mate? I’m sorry for you.” 

“My fiancée, actually.” 

“That’s terrible though. Do you know with who?” 

Arthur was quiet for some time. He swirled the drink around in his glass and decided to down it at once. It failed to wipe the images from his mind of catching them in the actual act, something no person should ever have to witness, and certainly not when it concerns the two people closest to one’s heart. “With my father.” 

Gwaine coughed out his drink across the table and wiped his mouth. “Oh mate, that is… fucked up.” A heavy hand slapped Arthur’s shoulder. 

Arthur poured them both new drinks and offered his glass to cheer. “Honestly, he’s welcome to her. I don’t want her anymore.” 

“Look, you could work things out—?”

“No! No way…” 

“Eira and I, we are working things out. I mean… there was one time I told her I started liking someone… but I never did anything. We worked things out then too!” 

Arthur shook his head. “I don’t think I ever loved her anyway.” 

“But you were marrying her?” 

“It’s complicated.” 

“It’s simple as fuck, mate.”

He shook his head again. It wasn’t a marriage, it was an arrangement. It was money, propriety and societal standing. Someone like Gwaine couldn’t begin to understand. “It was a union my father wanted, not me.” 

“Well, he seems to have got it.” 

Arthur put his glass down. Perhaps Gwaine got it after all. 

“No offense meant.” 

Arthur deflected.  “Do you know what Eira’s case was about?” 

“No. She won’t talk to me. She just said it happened and it’s over. I honestly don’t know. I never expected it… I mean. Sometimes I’m away for jobs elsewhere, you know? Not a whole lot to paint around here. Just exteriors every few years once the salt in the air’s eaten away the paint again. I’m quite happy to tackle your place, actually. Keeps me nearby.” 

“To keep an eye on her, you mean?” 

“Naw. Actually, the victim… he lived in the apartment next door to us. I mean, we’re not supposed to know it’s Cedric, but everyone already knows by now. I want to make sure we’re safe. That Eira’s safe.” 

“Word travels fast…” 

“Sure does.” 

“So you two will be okay?” 

Gwaine offered him a small smile. “Of course, mate. Yeah…” He didn’t sound convinced at all. 

“So, what about all these strange deaths I heard about in town?” 

Gwaine looked up from his drink with surprise. “Who told you about that?” 

Arthur shrugged. “What can you tell me about them?” 

“I don’t know, they are all accidents. There was a bloke many years ago, his name was Valiant. Basically he just shows up dead one day, drowned. He was a fisherman, so how he ended up drowned boggles the mind.” 

“Did he say anything out of the ordinary before he ended up dead?” 

“Only that he started seeing large snakes out at sea. And he said the weather was acting up, way up north. I have to say, I think he was rather much of a drunk.” 

“That’s odd. Where did he die then?” 

“Just in one of the streams nearby. If Percy hadn’t found him, he’d have drifted out to sea for sure.” 

“Percy the shepherd?” 

“Yes, one of his fields is crossed by that stream. He sees odd things from time to time. But he always keeps an eye out, you know? You’ll find him in the fields or in the pub, basically.” 

“Sounds like a good life…” 

Gwaine grinned. “You bet.” 

Arthur drank to that. 

“Then a few years later there was this hermit who had lived in the hills for some years. He came to town from time to time. He only ever visited Gaius’ shop. He never came to church, nor did he join us for drinks. We invited him for a random football match one time, but he declined that too. Edwin was his name, Edwin Muirden.” 

“How did he die?” 

“He died in a house fire. Burned. Along with his bug-infested hut. We’re not certain how it happened, the local fire brigade couldn’t figure it out. We got in some experts, but they also couldn’t determine the source for the fire.” 

“Surely that’s an accident then?” 

“Yes, that’s what most people think. Except he said he had just found something interesting out in the hills. He actually started talking to people about it and seemed genuinely happy. It was a new look on him, you know? Poor fellow.”

“So he didn’t do it himself?” 

“Oh, out of the question. He was in high spirits.” 

“Speaking of,” Arthur began and refilled both their glasses again. He was starting to feel tipsy. 

“There was one more, but I always forget. However, then there were a couple of strange accidents in recent years. No fatalities though. Vivian’s father was nearly hit by a tractor. He swears it started to drive by itself, but it slipped and got stuck in the mud before it hit him. And then there was this woman, Catrina, who was poisoned or something. She went onto the streets yelling strange and vulgar language at everyone. I don’t know if it was drugs, but that’s what people suspect. She’s living quietly now. In fact, it’s been very quiet the last few years.

“I suppose quiet is a good thing?” Arthur said and offered to pour more, seeing Gwaine down his drink in one go. 

“Just fab. Anyway, last one,” Gwaine said. “Then I’ll be heading home for dinner. But come ‘round to the pub after, alright?” 

“Perhaps tomorrow. I have a lot to do here.” They sat in silence for a few minutes. Arthur felt at ease. This Gwaine fellow was a good sort of person, he sensed. He cared about his wife and about the neighbor, and he saw other people’s happiness. He was probably not the murderer, he thought. 

He began to think. Someone in town definitely couldn’t be trusted. He felt that Gwaine should be in the group of people he thought were decent, which included Merlin and Percy. Possibly Lance. He wasn’t so certain about anyone else yet, though. Besides, a murderer could still have a friendly face. All one needed was motive. 

“Helen!” Gwaine suddenly exclaimed. 

“Excuse me?” 

“I couldn’t remember her name. Yeah, there was this lady called Helen, she was always walking around in fancy clothes. Bit too young for her, you know? It was before I arrived here. So, the word goes she died at home when one of her ceiling lamps fell on her head.” 

“A ceiling lamp, really?” 

“It was a wooden structure made by some artist many years ago. Quite fancy.” 

“Who on earth dies from that?” 

“Right? My point exactly, mate.” 

“You’re talking as if this sort of thing is common here. Should I be worried?” Arthur asked half in jest. 

“Naw. Look, these are just the rumours. It’s become a bit more sensitive now, considering that… well, Cedric was well known to everyone.” 

“What did he do?” 

“Used to work with horses, but he was good with numbers. He was an accountant, and sometimes he helped out with taxes. You know, the sort that’s actually helpful. But he recently got another job, there was an employer from out of town.” 

“Mister Sigan?” Arthur recalled the conversation earlier. “PC Smith mentioned him.”

“Yeah! He really thought it would be his big break, you know?” 

“Poor sod,” Arthur shook his head. He wondered what a jewel trader from London would need from a tax man in Camlot. 

“Yeah,” Gwaine added. 

“Have the police secured his house yet?” 

Gwaine shook his head. “Not according to Eira.”

Arthur shook his head and sighed. 

“So, tomorrow pub, right?” Gwaine got up. 

“I’ll catch up with you and Percy, I’m sure.” 

“Not to be a bother, mate, but you might want to try and heat up some rooms properly. It’s like a fridge in here.” 

“Been trying, the rooms are too big,” Arthur explained with a shrug. “I’ll make do.” 

“I’m sure you will.” 

After Gwaine said his goodbyes and left with a promise to return later that week for painting, Arthur got lost in thought. He played with his last shot without drinking it, idly moving the small glass across the table top with his fingers. 

He thought about the town, about the strange events. Surely they were unrelated. They sounded nothing alike. It wasn’t an MO of any killer he’d ever heard of. He shook his head, decided he was nearly frozen to his seat at the kitchen table and continued unpacking to try and put these odd thoughts from his mind.


	6. The Call

Monday was decidedly not starting off as Arthur’s best day ever. As it turned out, the words ‘I quit’ didn’t form so easily in Arthur’s mouth as he’d expected. Especially when the company had taken a turn for the worse in recent weeks. He had answered George after the seventeenth call that morning, and replied that he was taking sick leave and seeing a GP that day. That last part was true. Perhaps it was in fact a good idea because he predicted that a heart attack was due before the day was out.

At lunch, his body still thrummed with anticipation. He was waiting for Sophia’s call now. Or worse, Uther’s. If she tried to reach him at the office, they would tell her to call his mobile. He wasn’t certain whether he was dreading the moment or looking forward to the confrontation. Panicking, he turned off his phone and decided to put it from his mind for now.

In order to get out of the cold house he decided to see Dr Dulac who had a practice at the edge of the village. As he walked down towards his car, he noticed upon glancing through the hedge that Merlin’s car was still absent. His cat, Kilgharrah, was prowling around in the yard, sniffing for prey under the layer of snow. Arthur hoped its thick coat would would keep it warm enough. The wind was picking up and it cut like knives across his cheeks.

This time, Arthur took his car. The walk would be a nice one, but the icy eastern winds made his leather jacket crackle in decidedly non-leathery ways before he had even closed the door to his BMW.

The sun was hidden behind a thick layer of cloud that morning, promising another snowfall before the day was out. Though a drive to the practice would take under five minutes, the walk was simply unacceptable. His Burberry scarf was not quite equipped for this.

Fortunately, Dr Dulac had an opening for him in forty minutes. It was a terrible forty minutes because Arthur was determined to remain disciplined and keeping his phone turned off. He couldn’t even check the web for the latest news, or spy on anyone through Facebook or Twitter. But it was for the best.

The waiting room offered only a few local tabloids to read and he definitely was not in the mood for that. After half an hour of shuffling his feet, he caved in and picked up the top magazine and began reading about Pembrokeshire and other local affairs. It was hideously tedious. Then there was an article dedicated to Detective Inspector Tom Smith and the affairs around his strange survival. He read the name of the author, Merlin Ambrose. At once his interest was piqued.

The summary of the story explained how Tom had been visited by someone from abroad, and not a day later he was personally attacked in his home. Various belongings such as his ID and keys, as well as certain case files went missing. Tom spent months in hospital recovering. An interview followed where Tom spoke about his personal state after his return home, and how he had left the police force to go into early retirement. The article was well written, which interested him further. This town kept getting stranger and stranger.

He read on beyond the summary, interested in what Tom Smith would have to say. Just as Arthur began to read Tom’s answer to the first interview question, a knock came on the door. Lance gave him a friendly smile and said, “I have time for you now.”

  
  


***

When Arthur entered the pub that evening, a foul-smelling man was just being brought outside by the landlord, a bearded bloke with curly reddish brown hair. Arthur judged the drunk to be mid-thirties, with short brown hair and a beard.

“Let go of me, Leon,” the drunk mumbled.

“Go home, Julius,” Leon urged. “You can come back tomorrow.” His voice was gentle, and he held the door open for Arthur to come inside. “Sorry about that, mate.”

Arthur shrugged and entered. The pub was filled with people. He stomped the snow off his boots, grateful to be indoors and away from the raging winds. Arthur shuddered. He spotted Gwaine, Percy and Gaius, who were were sitting at a large round table. Gwaine offered him a large grin, motioned for Arthur to join them and ordered him a pint.

The old shopkeeper shook his head morosely. "The police have locked it up. They have even taken the key. I don't know why.”

“Perhaps they wanted to keep things under wraps," Gwaine offered.

"Do you have money stored in the shop?" Arthur asked.

Gaius shook his head again. "No, not even that."

"Then why was someone there in the middle of the night? I assume the bloke was breaking and entering?"

Gaius sighed and looked down. "I would never have expected that,” he said, “I haven’t even been allowed to enter the shop myself. I have no idea what took place.”

“What was the point of entry? Do you know?” Arthur pushed.

Gaius looked down and shrugged.

“Then what was he after? It’s a strange time to buy milk and eggs,” Arthur said.

“I truly do not know,” Gaius said miserably.

“Surely it’s no longer a crime scene?” Gwaine asked.

Percy took a sip from his glass and set it down gently. “The police might be waiting for a forensic specialist to come in.”

Gwaine shook his head. “They are just being ridiculously cautious, I’d say.”

“Because of what happened to Tom?” Arthur pried. He had skimmed over the article, and it appeared that Tom had given up his position at the police to avoid any further attacks. He was most certainly PC Smith’s father, and the vicar’s too. Whoever attacked him had a great deal of nerve.

Gaius regarded him cautiously and folded his arms across his chest. “You heard about that? That happened over a year ago.”

“The DI retires early, right after an attack… and you don’t find that odd? After everything strange that’s been happening here?”

It seemed to make Gaius think. After a while he said, “I don’t see how these incidents are related.”

Arthur took a sip of his pint and shrugged. “I’m not saying the incidents are, but their causes might be. I’ve seen a lot of cases and while they are not always based on a crime, a series of bizarrely strange incidents which might not seem related, usually are. We see the same in finances, when we tackle corporate theft. It’s not always about the place where money is taken from, it’s also what it’s used for. And it’s not always the amount that’s taken, but the interval at which it occurs.”

“No offense, mate, but you’re talking bull,” Gwaine challenged. “If one day we see a UFO and the next someone dies inside the shop, these things have nothing to do with one another.”

“A UFO? You saw that?” Arthur looked up.

Gwaine cleared his throat. “I’m saying theoretically.”

“Friday night?” Arthur pressed.

Gwaine stared at him flatly. “Might be.”

“Wait, I didn’t see that,” Percy remarked.

“It wasn’t out by the fields this time, it was over town.” Gwaine shuffled his drink around.

“Wait,” Arthur interrupted. “This time?”

Gaius sighed and leaned his arms on the table, looking at Arthur. “We are not certain what we are seeing. Best leave it to the police who are undoubtedly investigating this too.”

Arthur shook his head. “I don’t believe that for a second.”

“I’m sure they are doing their very best,” Gaius said.

“Well what’s the mayor done about this?” Arthur asked and slapped his hand down on the table. The others proceeded to rescue their drinks from the table top, before too much precious alcohol slopped out.

“Not much, actually,” Percy said, “She’s not in public a lot.”

Arthur let out a sigh.

Gwaine was eyeing Arthur curiously. “So, you don’t believe that the police are handling this properly?”

“In fact I don’t. She’s not taking the right precautions and she’s not been asking the right questions. It might be she’s fearing an attack on herself in person.” If that was the case, Arthur thought, she’d need protection.

Percy cocked his head and leaned back, swinging out his large arm in Arthur’s direction. “What would _you_ do then?”

Arthur downed his pint and put the glass firmly on the wet table. “I’m glad you asked.” He flexed his shoulders and began to explain. “First of all, they allowed everyone to tread through the snow outside the shop, which obscured any information about the point of entry. Secondly, they informed everyone, including me, being new to the village, that they would be ‘coming round for questioning’, which means that whoever was involved could have prepared themselves adequately, which I think they _wouldn’t_ be, because the murder was clearly done violently. A violent murder usually tells us the killer wasn’t prepared at all, and wouldn’t have had time to go over their story.

“Thirdly, the bloke had apparently just had his big break. With some company out of town. That is relevant information. I wasn’t asked about Cedric’s big break. Now, I don’t know mister Sigan, but that should have been one of the key questions. That’s motivation. And finally, there’s apparently a killer out here. It might be someone in this very pub right now. It might even be one of you. But there are no official warnings, help lines or even instructions how to stay safe at night. That’s why I think the local police office is understaffed and falling behind. Within a couple of days, whoever did it will feel like they got away with it permanently and the trail grows cold. They can’t let that happen.”

The three were staring at him wide-eyed. Gaius shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

“What are you,” Gwaine remarked. “Some kind of expert?”

“Something like that, yes. I’ve been connecting the dots professionally for years.” For a long, stretched moment, none of them spoke, so Arthur continued, “And if the police think that the other strange deaths and bizarre incidents aren’t related, then they’re not thinking outside the box.”

Gwaine shot him a sideways grin and shook his head. “You should talk to Merlin…”

“Don’t encourage this,” Gaius said to Gwaine. “Listen, it’s not our job to consider all these things. The police have their own way of taking care of these cases.”

“Covering them up?” Arthur offered.

Gaius looked personally offended. “Not in the slightest! But nothing has turned up quite as serious as this. I have bad dreams at night after seeing all that blood in my little shop, and I—I don’t quite know how to fill my days.”

Arthur played with his empty glass. “I didn’t mean to offend you. I’m certain you are quite shocked by the circumstances.”

“We all are. I know, I know. I had better head off, it’s getting late.” Gaius waved goodbye and left for home.

There was something seriously wrong in this town, Arthur concluded. It seemed like no one paid any real attention to the bizarre situations that were taking place under their noses. What part of this was normal? Someone needed to connect the dots, figure out why all these strange events were occurring and why this young man had died in Gaius’ shop.

Percy took a moment to gather his thoughts and said, “Look, I mean, we’re good friends here, so we’ll work it out. But it’s terrible whenever someone we know is lost like that. I’m sure Father Elyan’s ceremony at his funeral will reflect that.”

“Father Elyan? Will Cedric’s parents attend?”

“They never lived here. They would probably be here in the coming days, right?” Percy explained. “We are having the funeral at the church on Friday, will you join us?”

Arthur shrugged. “I didn’t know him.” Then he reconsidered. If more people were going to be there, perhaps the killer would be too. He nodded and said, “You know what, it might be a good way to close this off and get to know some of the villagers, right?” He aimed his smile at Percy, who accepted it gladly.

“I’ll get us some more drinks, so that we can cheer to that,” Percy said, satisfied.

Gwaine grinned as Percy left, and once he had, he leaned over to Arthur and said, “Look, you seem like you know how to look at this situation seriously. Eira’s beside herself. Would you… would you consider looking into this more in depth?”

“I doubt PC Smith would appreciate my interference.” Arthur shrugged.

“Well, she wouldn’t need to know, would she? You could just… look into it, you know? Percy says he’s sure you didn’t do it. I trust his word, that means I also trust you. I’ve no idea who might have done it, but I’d like to, you know? So that I can tell Eira, and so that we can feel safe again.”

“Why don’t you ask Tom Smith? He was lead detective here, he might assist professionally?” Arthur proposed, raising an eyebrow.

“He won’t. I know that for a fact. Not even after this. Especially not after this.”

Arthur looked him straight in the eyes. Gwaine was entirely serious. “Look, I’m here on a break… I told you what happened.”

“Yeah I get it. You need some distraction, right? Well… how about this?” Gwaine said. He lifted his hands in the air as if it was crystal clear that the solution had been there to begin with.

“I’m not sure I’m up for that,” he said while Percy returned with the drinks. “But I’ll think about it.”

Gwaine slapped him on the shoulder with a big hand, and grinned.

“In memory of Cedric,” Percy said, and they cheered.

  
  


***

The scent of candles hung strongly in the large room. The long, heavy curtains were drawn and the air was thick. Two women stood next to a large painting of an elderly lady with startling blue eyes and black hair peppered with white. Her dress was a fierce blue and red, and chain of pearls hung around her neck.

“You bring news, Dagr?” one of the women purred, her eyes sharp like piercing blades. She was wearing a simple dark dress that hid all her secrets.

A broad, bald-headed man with a thick beard stood in the middle of the room, his form trembling. “Yes, I do. I hope you will be pleased.”

The woman who had spoken stepped forward and her scrutinous gaze took in the figure in front of her. “We have waited to hear it. Speak up.”

“It is as you predicted, under the mountain to the north.”

“And did you get it?”

The man steadied his trembling hands against his hips, trying to remain composed. “There was no way in. I spent a day looking. I used everything you taught me.”

The other woman crossed her arms, her black gloved hands standing out against the red of her dress. “Did you use your eyes to look?”

“Yes, of course. Both pairs.”

“Did you _really_ look?” she asked again.

“Yes! There is no way in. I swear it, or I would not stand before you.”

The first woman shook her head. “And who took it?”

“I don’t know. All I saw was a blur.”

“Even with—?”

“Yes, even with the other eyes you gifted to me.”

“Man or woman?”

“I… I don’t know.”

“They remained hidden to you?”

“Yes, but I’m certain they took it. I felt it.”

The woman with the gloved hands appeared behind him suddenly. “You felt it?”

He started and turned to her. A hand gripped his shoulder and the man instantly ducked to his knees. “I felt it. I’m sure of it.”

“You’ve brought us nothing. No relic, no door, not even a name. But I’m glad that you felt it, Dagr. I really am.” Soft black silk stroked the side of his cheek. “Show me your eyes.”

The man took two crystals out of his pockets and held them up in his right palm to show her. “I did everything I could.”

“Yes, and you will learn to do better.” Gloved fingers spread over his eyes. “You will learn.”

“No, I beg you. Please!” he begged, but it was too late. A scream erupted from his throat, and it pierced the silence throughout the whole building. “I have more news!” he said, fighting against the burning pain, blood spilling from the corners of his eyes.

“Something you saw?”

“Yes, yes! Please, listen. Listen!”

A tall flame in the back of the room subsided and the woman in the black dress lifted his chin. “I’m all ears.”

“There is someone new in town. A man, yes! Someone new!”

“Oh? Does he seek anything in particular here?”

“I don’t know, probably not,” he said and stammered while the gloved hand returned, hovering in front of his injured face. “But wait. You will like to hear where he lives!”

“Go on then.”

The large man laughed nervously. “He has taken residence at Seren Wen.”


	7. The Village Tour

_Ninety-eight, ninety-nine, one hundred_. 

Arthur breathed out a large sigh as he finished the last push-ups of that morning’s routine. If he wanted to stay fit, he’d have to continue his strict exercising routine. And if he wanted to stay warm in his house, even more so. Thanks to the arctic winds that would make Jack Frost proud, Arthur had failed to notice any improvement from the day before. 

He showered and made himself a good breakfast with strong coffee, then leafed through Percy’s pamphlets. Now that his belongings were in place, he didn’t have all that much to do, and he certainly did not want to turn on his mobile phone yet. So he was looking for things to do around the village. He had made his decision: in order to keep himself busy and blissfully distracted, he would gather information about the events happening in and around Camlot and see if he could put the pieces together. 

Peeking out of the window, Arthur observed that Merlin’s car was still absent, which meant that Merlin was probably out. He wanted to speak with him after Gwaine’s suggestion the previous night. If there was anyone who might have information about the events, it would be the local journalist. He had covered Tom Smith’s attack and subsequent retirement, and he was clearly interested in everything and everyone. Annoyingly so.

He tried to ignore the part of his brain that was interested in seeing his nosy, dimple-smiled, _hot_ neighbour again. He hadn’t thought that way in years. It had efficiently been argued out of him. He wasn’t like that, Uther had said. He bitterly recalled his father’s vile terms for it. It was a stupid notion that ought to be subdued, that’s what he had been taught. 

To his own disgrace and frustrations, he immediately began doubting himself, as if he was a Pavlovian puppy drooling for the next meal. First of all, he wasn’t planning on staying here. Besides, this wasn’t London, it was a was a small backwards village in the arse-end of nowhere, complete with a church that people actually went to, and sheep that looked far too wary. On top of that, the chances of reciprocation from Merlin were next to nothing. Just for good measure, he looked out of the window again. No car. 

He dressed in his thickest clothes and decided that he would ask Percy to show him around. The only problem was that this required a phone call. Percy had written his number on the pamphlet about local hiking routes. Arthur considered that a tall man would offer him a good vantage point, tell him about various locations and add a bit of history for Arthur to grasp at. 

Wincing preemptively, Arthur turned on his phone. 

And immediately regretted his decision. 

A string of 33 app messages from several people, 4 texts, 11 voicemails, and no less than 17 missed phone calls from Sophia and 2 from his father filled his screen one after another. He dismissed the pop-ups and turned off the sound of his phone. His heart was instantly in his throat. Apparently being missed for one day had had quite an effect. He didn’t want to answer to anyone yet, not yet. The pain of Sophia’s and his father’s betrayal returned, and it had cruelly not reduced in vehemence. 

While he dialed Percy’s number he felt panic creeping up on him. The phone rung, five, six, seven times. He leaned back in his kitchen chair and bit his lip. 

Silence. 

“Percy Jones here.” 

Arthur had some trouble finding his voice again. “Yes! Percy, this is, uh… Arthur. Listen, you said you’d perhaps show me around the village some time. Does today work for you?” 

“Oh, sure. Better dress warm. It’s going to be windy.” 

“Okay, where should I meet you?” 

“By the Church. Say half an hour?” 

Arthur sat up immediately. “Okay. Yes. Okay, thank you.” 

The line went dead and Arthur stared at the screen of his phone for another minute. He felt like an arse for the way he’d handled that. And yet his hands were still shaking. 

He looked down. His phone rang silently in his hand. The screen read Uther Pendragon. 

His eyes widened. 

He ignored the call and instantly cursed himself, knowing that it would go straight to voicemail rather than ring out before going to voicemail. He turned his phone off and took the battery out. 

_Shit!_

He wasn’t certain if it was the impact of the coffee coursing through his veins or his heartbeat in his ears, but he suddenly had a feeling that someone else was in the house. Had he heard a sound? It couldn’t be Sophia, or his father. Logically, he knew that. They couldn’t know where he was. It was impossible. Perhaps he had imagined it? 

Without a doubt, a door creaked. 

Arthur felt his heart thud against his ribs powerfully once, twice and subside again. A sharp urgency tugged at his insides and urged him to figure out who, or what this was. He left his seat at the table as quietly as possible and tiptoed to the door opening. He held his breath to see if he heard more. 

There! A plank creaked lightly. He wasn’t imagining it!

He pushed his head out into the hallway and saw movement. Just for a moment his heart stopped. 

“What the hell?!”

Kilgharrah, Merlin’s cat, had somehow found its way inside Arthur’s house. The open cellar door offered Arthur all the leads he needed to figure it out. 

“What are you doing here?” he cooed. The cat lifted its tail but stayed where it was, curiously observing him. Arthur laughed, feeling elated. Kilgharrah turned to wander the house and sniffed at the furniture Arthur had moved about, perfectly offended by what he found.

Arthur flung the cellar door open. He hadn’t been down there yet, simply because he hadn’t wanted to. He now realised that it might be a good idea after all. “You’ve done this before, haven’t you?” he asked the cat, which meowed in reply from somewhere in the living room. 

He stared down the stairs to the cellar. It wasn’t just that it was dark down there, much too dark compared to the reflected winter light shining into the house from the snow outside. He had the feeling there was something down there. He shook off his apprehension and descended, finding a musty, mostly empty room with a draft—no wonder the house wasn’t warming up—and a cat flap in the door below. It made sense, the Caerleons had had cats as well. 

His foot kicked something across the floor and when he looked down, he saw that it was a mouse carcass. So far it seemed like nothing out of the ordinary. But there was something there he simply didn’t like. He checked if the door to the garden was locked and eyed the stairs outside, leading up to the garden terrace, through the small window. The steps were covered with snow and frost, and seemed entirely at peace. 

Sufficiently appeased with the sturdiness of the door’s lock, he closed the shutters in front of the tiny window and climbed up the stairs again to get ready to meet Percy at the church. 

Their walk was a good, despite the chill. They crossed many miles of ground and took in the wintry settlement from north to south and from east to west. Arthur had dressed himself as warmly as he could, which wasn’t quite enough against the piercing winds, but their tempo kept them both sufficiently warm. Even Percy wore a jacket today. 

They passed several shops and Arthur learned where to find the local distillery and where Gaius the shopkeeper lived, and many others. Percy pointed out several large farms, including his own, which stretched far to the North and included several miles of coastline. Afterwards they passed the manor belonging to Mayor Lefay. 

He glanced at it curiously. It was a stately home with manicured boxwood patterns that would look great in summer, Arthur assumed. Oddly, apart from the evergreen bush patterns, there was nothing about this manor which indicated ‘life’ to Arthur. The brown lifeless brick of a building had all curtains closed. There was more life to be found on in an average graveyard. As they passed it, Arthur notice that the only visible clues that anyone was inside were the thick black curls of smoke coming out of the chimney and the van parked outside which read in large gray and green letters on the side ‘Residential & Commercial Painting’ and below that ‘Gwaine Orkney’. 

Percy told him all about the history of Camlot, about its seafaring years and fishing industry, to the occasional tourism, which mostly occurred during spring and summer. Winter was a quiet time for them. Arthur listened quietly and felt like a tourist, wondering where Percy kept his little yellow flag for him to follow. Then again, he was so tall you couldn’t miss him if you wanted to. 

The end of the tour took them through the old village centre. It was filled with a spaghetti of narrow passages, turning Arthur’s inner compass topsy-turvy. Suddenly, as they turned a corner, both of them stopped. And stared. 

A giant graffiti display coloured the bricks on the side of a house. It was quite an artwork, spanning the entire side of the building. It read ‘NO MERCY FOR MURDERERS’ in large stylised capitals, bright violet and roughly angular. 

“That’s Cedric’s house,” Percy said. “Wow,” he added moments later. 

They stared at it. 

“Oh Christ,” Arthur said before now realising they stood next to the church again. They had done a full tour. “I’m assuming that wasn’t there when we left earlier?” 

There were large footprints in the snow leading down one of the alleys to the main street, where they mixed with all the others. 

“No, must’ve happened after,” Percy said contemplatively. 

“The paint is still dripping, see?” Arthur pointed. “It happened just now.” 

“We’ll have to tell the police about this,” Percy said, but made no attempt to reach for a phone. 

Arthur rather didn’t want to turn on his phone either, lest his father or Sophia would reach him. 

He bit his lip and regarded the purple paint. “I saw graffiti on the shop as well, do you think it’s connected?” 

“Probably not. I expect it’s just some kids fooling around.” 

“A kid doesn’t write that,” Arthur countered. He also thought that the handwriting looked exactly the same as on the General Store. 

“Might not. But it doesn’t seem the sort of thing a murderer would do, would it?” 

“But why on Cedric’s house? Who would want to send a message that badly, and to whom?” Arthur shook his head. “We should definitely call the police.” 

Percy shrugged. He seemed at odds about the situation, scratching the back of his head. “Nah, let’s head to the pub. We might catch Gwen there.” 

Arthur stared at him.  

“PC Smith,” Percy clarified with a smile. “This is a shortcut,” he said and took the path between Cedric’s and his neighbor’s houses. 

Arthur saw a blonde woman glaring at them from where she stood near the window, behind a vase of flowers, the neighbor’s house. That would be Eira, he thought. Arthur realised that this is where Gwaine must live. Near the pub. Terribly convenient, that. 

It was busy in the pub again when they entered. The smell of food hit Arthur the second he stepped in, and he wondered what was cooking. Percy and Arthur sat down at the large round table with Gwen, Elyan, and several other townsfolk. Arthur was introduced to Vivian, the short blonde woman whom he had met on the first day outside the store. Julius, the drunk from the previous night, looked no better than before, and finally he was introduced to Mordred, a young bloke who lit a cigarette indoors and ignored Leon’s request to put it out. 

After the round of introductions, the others at the table were served large, plate-sized pancakes on dinner plates. Arthur and Percy both gawked at them. The thick American style pancakes topped with whipped cream, chocolate chips, berries and bananas, looked and smelled delicious. This was brilliant! Now he didn’t have to go home and cook. 

“Wow, thanks Mithian,” Percy said with a big grin. “This is Arthur, he’s at Seren Wen now. Mithian here is Leon’s wife. Got any more of those pancakes?” 

“I’m famished,” Arthur agreed. 

“It’s Leon making them, actually. And sure, what’ll you have?” 

“Two pints to start with. Do you have any pancakes with banana?” Percy asked. “With some rum, please?” 

Mithian smiled. “Sure, and you?” 

Arthur looked up at her. “Bacon, no rum, thanks.” He leaned back in his chair and watched Father Elyan offer a prayer before the others began to eat. Everyone at the table put their hands together respectfully and waited for ‘Amen’. Mordred put the rest of his cigarette out before beginning his meal. 

“So,” Percy began while Gwen dug into her pancake, cutting out neat little triangular slices. “Are you off duty or… can I, uh… share some news?” 

Gwen smiled at him. “I’m always here to listen. Did anything happen?” 

“There’s some graffiti,” Arthur said. “On Cedric’s house. It’s certain that it was done today. Likely an adult male, by the looks of it.” 

Vivian rolled her eyes and whispered, “Another one?” 

Gwen eyed Arthur curiously. “Surely you can’t know that?” 

“There were large footprints in the snow, made by heavy shoes. I think the snow is too dry to actually get a trace of the boot print, but it certainly wasn’t done by a kid—the message is a threat.” The next round of pancakes arrived and Arthur was delighted, diving into his in huge chomps. 

Father Elyan put his hands together, lacing his fingers, and cocked his head. “You got all this from footprints. You told us you are in law, not detective work. I think you should stick to what you’re good at.” 

Mordred eyed Arthur curiously while lighting another cigarette the moment he was finished with his pancake. “Yeah, this is police business,” he said, puffing out a cloud of smoke towards Arthur. 

Gwen coughed in Mordred’s direction and he put the cigarette out in a dramatic move of feigned compliance. 

“Just a bit of fun, they’re havin’,” Julius said. He winked at Arthur. “You bothered by it? I thought city folk see graffiti all the time. Consider it an ‘art form’, they do.” 

Arthur shrugged and waved the smoke away. “It’s not my house. But to be fair, the property owner isn’t going to be happy, the townsfolk are going to feel violated, and I don’t know what Cedric’s parents will think once they arrive this week.” 

“This is not really a priority while the case is running,” Gwen admitted with a sigh. 

Father Elyan narrowed his eyes. “Paint can be removed. Besides, the townsfolk are not your concern. They are under my wing… how _exactly_ are they going to feel violated?” 

“If the perp goes free,” Arthur said back. He wondered why Elyan was giving him so much trouble. Arthur wasn’t religious, so the man was free to dislike him. But there was something more going on. “Well, it sends a signal to the town that people can do what they want, doesn’t it?” 

“The ‘perp’ will be handled in time, I’m certain,” Father Elyan said. 

“If not by Gwen, then by God, isn’t that right?” Julius said with a hiccup in his voice. 

Arthur raised an eyebrow. “Right, of course.” 

“Look, I appreciate the call-in,” Gwen said, looking between Percy and Arthur, “but I first have to look at Cedric’s case, alright?” 

“I’m going to miss him around,” Vivian said. “He was always cheerful, even if he was a bit of a creeper. Did you know he started buying flowers at my shop from time to time, just a few months ago?” 

As Vivian spoke they began drifting to other topics. It wasn’t until later that Arthur had a moment to speak to Gwen. 

“Why don’t you just admit it?” Arthur asked, leaning over to her. 

“Admit what?” 

Arthur waited while his second bacon pancake was put in front of him and thanked Mithian. He shrugged. “That you are understaffed. I’m sure you’re doing excellent work, but you haven’t got the time to really go into an event this big.” 

Gwen blinked at him. “No, we’re doing great, actually. We’re following up on some very relevant leads.” 

Father Elyan held his hand out to them. “I _really_ —”

“Elyan, no,” Gwen said. “Arthur’s just looking out for what’s in the best public interest.” She put her fork and knife down and asked for the receipt. “Come, let’s go.” Gwen and Vivian left, and Elyan trailed after them. 

“Is he always like that?” Arthur asked no one in particular. 

“The vicar?” Mordred asked, finishing a scotch. “Only when he’s trying to protect people. He’s much nicer normally.” He regarded Arthur with pale green eyes and offered a small, mysterious smile. “So, there must be a reason you’re suddenly here. What have you come here to do, or to look for?” 

Arthur shrugged. “I’m just taking a break from city life. Are you from around here?” He put some syrup on his pancake and began eating. 

Mordred shrugged noncommittally and ordered another scotch. “I don’t think you should look into these cases anyway. There’s weird things going on…” 

Arthur chewed and regarded Mordred. He swallowed. “There certainly are.” 

Julius helpfully added, “We are all buggered,” in a thick slurring grumble, and sought his balance again, swaying in his seat. 

Percy nodded quietly, sipping on his pint. “I hope the person who is spraying graffiti will stop at last.” 

“Are there more places with graffiti besides the shop and Cedric’s house?” 

Percy nodded. “Yeah, a few. There’s one on a school, and another one on an old farm. Oh, Mithian, could I have another pancake?” 

“Who cares about those messages anyway?” Julius asked, elbowing Arthur in the side. 

Arthur ordered another large pancake as well. “Actually,” he said to Percy and Mordred, “I think that this last case of vandalism will probably put everyone in the village on watch. You know, the Big-Brother effect. So, perhaps it has the opposite effect of the goal that was being aimed for, you know?” 

Percy furrowed his brow. “You mean… people won’t be scared? I mean, should they be?” 

Arthur shrugged. “Logically they ought to be.” 

“Why?” Mordred challenged. “There were a lot of people who didn’t like Cedric. You don’t know anything about what’s been going on here.” 

“Why don’t you inform me?” Arthur replied without blinking. 

“You city folk wouldn’t believe it if it was standing right in front of you,” Mordred said, glowering. 

“Hey now,” Percy said quietly. “No need to look so cross.” 

“Percy, you’re good, mate, but you can’t save us,” Julius mumbled in his drunken stupor. 


	8. Dancing

Later that evening the pub door opened and closed, and Arthur looked up to see Merlin walking in, looking worn. Merlin greeted his friends in at the round table, took off his thick brown coat and collapsed into a chair opposite Arthur. 

Arthur made a good pretense that his heart wasn’t in his throat for at least a minute, or so he thought, and nodded at Merlin in what he perceived to be a calm motion. Just as Merlin took off his coat, Mordred stood up and pushed his cigarette out on his empty plate. He shot Merlin a filthy glance and left the pub. 

Arthur watched their cool exchange curiously, finishing his pint. He couldn’t recall how many he’d had, but it was a fair few by now, snuffing out his senses pleasantly. It made him possibly not the best judge of anything, but he felt confident that he’d still be the better judge compared to _some._ And that made a perfect sort of drunken sense to him. 

Percy lifted his glass to Merlin. “Want a drink?” He ordered a pint without waiting for an answer. 

“Ehm, no thanks, actually, Perce. I’m not drinking today,” Merlin said quietly. 

Percy nodded. "Good trip?" 

"Yeah," Merlin said simply. "You had pancakes?" He looked at Arthur's plate hungrily. There was still half of a large pancake left which Arthur hadn’t manage to finish.  

Percy shuffled his pint. “Kitchen’s closed now I’m afraid.” 

"Have the rest," Arthur offered, shoving the plate in Merlin’s direction.

"Oh no, I..." 

"I've had two-and-a-half, and they were large too. I couldn't possibly finish this bit,” Arthur said, accepting the pint that Mithian brought over and taking a sip through the thick layer of foam. “Then I’ll finish this for you.” 

Merlin licked his lips. "What flavor is it?" 

"Bacon and syrup," Arthur said, grinning. 

Merlin's eyebrows shot up. "You're joking?" 

"No, it's great, actually! You should try it." He offered Merlin a playful smile, willing his nerves to still, or at least tell him something that he could rely upon, which they certainly weren’t doing right now. 

Merlin pulled the plate close, rolled it up, picked up the roll between his fingers, and took a large bite in one go. He turned to gawk at Arthur. "This _is_ good!" he said with a his cheek full of pancake. 

Arthur chuckled. "I told you so." 

_Jesus_ , he thought, _he is cute when he smiles_. The notion struck him like a slap in the face. He observed how Merlin consumed the rest of the rolled up pancake and felt a stir in his belly fueled by alcohol. Nostalgia hit him hard. He had baked these pancakes for Sophia and she had hated them. Not that it mattered, logically. "Good?" he asked, voice hoarse. 

"Mmm, definitely. How did you ever pick this?" 

"Made a mistake one day," he explained. "The syrup was right there. And then it just happened… Delicious." He wasn't entirely certain he was still referring just to the pancake, which Merlin had consumed in under two minutes flat. Uther’s voice echoed in Arthur’s head and told him that what he felt was inessential, and a handicap, if he ever wanted to stay ahead. He couldn’t shut the voice out. It was right there. 

Percy picked up the empty plates and said, “It was good showing your around today, Arthur. I’ve got to head back to the farm. Good night.” He left to pay his bill for the night and gave them a small wave. 

Merlin pushed his index finger over the plate surface to gather up any remaining syrup. A bad habit, Arthur reflected. Uther would have scolded him. Arthur shook the thought from his mind. He looked Merlin over. He wanted to continue where they had left off, before everything had turned awkward. And he wanted to ask him about the case. He was damned if he let Uther get in the way. He was his own man. He had to be, if he was ever going to find himself. 

So, he set his resolve and said, “Only when strictly necessary.” 

Merlin blinked. “What?” 

Arthur leaned forward on his elbows and rested his chin on his folded hands, the motion sluggish after his drinks. “You asked me already, the other day.” 

Blue eyes searched his face, utterly confused. 

“Yes, I do dance while I’m cleaning. But only when strictly necessary,” Arthur clarified with a cheeky grin. When Merlin chuckled, his Adam’s apple bobbed down, and eyes crinkling up at the corners. Arthur wanted to see it again, but thought to best remain cautious. 

“Place looking better now?” 

“Well, obviously,” Arthur replied smugly. “Where did your trip take you this time?” 

“North,” Merlin replied avoidantly. “Had to deliver something.” 

“Right,” Arthur said, none the wiser and took a sip from his pint. “Are you going to write a piece about Cedric’s murder?” 

Merlin observed the other people in the pub hesitantly. “It’s rather fresh still, but yes, I will be, eventually.” 

“I was wondering if I could talk to you about what’s been going on.” 

Merlin crossed his arms. “I don’t know if that’s a good idea,” he said. 

“I’m interested in linking the other strange events as well, because no case I ever encountered was quite as strange as what’s been going on here. And whatever people say about ‘city folk’ not understanding… well perhaps my ‘city-eye’ can offer a different, refreshing view.” 

A sigh. “Why, what have you seen?” 

“No, I mean really dig into everything that’s been going on. The stories I’ve heard so far, Merlin, none of them make any sense. And I’m going to need your help on this.” 

“My help?” He shook his head. “You haven’t even told me anything about yourself. Why should I trust you?” 

“You already know that we both have solid alibis. Of course you can trust me. Besides, I need some distractions.” 

“See, this is why I don’t think I could work with you. You’re not really being transparent.” 

Arthur sighed. He shoved his drink out in front of him on the table and felt his jaw straining. “I’m here because I cracked a case my father had helped me on, and I wanted to surprise him, to thank him…” He leaned forward and lowered his voice. “And instead I found him in bed with the woman I was going to marry, alright?” He was angry all over again at the memory. His resolve was set to never follow Uther’s lead on anything ever again. Even if he risked being disowned, cut off from the family state completely. He didn’t really want that, but still… 

Merlin stared in surprise, then frowned. “No, I’m not buying it. You needed to get away, I get that. But why are you _here?_ At Seren Wen?”

Arthur stood up, shaking his head. “Forget it.” He really didn’t want to open up that cesspit. 

Merlin’s eyes followed him as he went to pay for his pancakes and drinks. Arthur said goodnight to Leon and Mithian, tipped royally and headed for the door. When he was outside, the wind caught up with him instantly and he paused for a moment to zip up his jacket further and put on his gloves. The door opened again and Merlin faced him. 

“Arthur!” he said, expression serious, his breath coming out in a puff. 

“Don’t—” he shook his head which left his thoughts trailing behind him in a drunken mood that was hitting him now, as he stood outside in the cold facing the unsteady earth below his feet. After what his father and Sophia had done to him, it felt as if his mother was yet another person he couldn’t reach. And if he thought about her too much, he would realise that every connection he’d ever had with anyone was just superficial. As if he had no right to be anywhere. He hated that Merlin questioned him about it. 

“Wait,” Merlin said and held out a hand against his shoulder, preventing him from leaving. 

“Why were you here?” Arthur huffed to him. 

“Here in Camlot?” 

Arthur licked his lips and pulled himself away from Merlin’s hand but it followed. “Here at the pub. You didn’t even have a drink.” 

“Just looking for some friendly company. It was a long trip. What about you?” 

When he saw the warm light of the pub reflected in Merlin’s eyes as he stayed put, blocking his way up the lane, Arthur felt helpless. He lifted his arms out and shouted, “She was my mother, alright?!” Merlin kept silent, so Arthur continued, slurring slightly, “And I don’t understand why you want to know so badly. Maybe you know something about her. Well, good on you, because that’s more than me. I never got to know her. She died when I was just a few months old.” 

Merlin’s hand on his shoulder stayed put and kept him on his feet. Uther had always avoided talking about her. So, Arthur had never connected _any_ dots about her life. He felt belligerent and shoved against the hand holding him in place. Merlin’s feet stayed in the snow, unmoving. Tears stung at the corners of Arthur’s eyes and he turned away from the light, self conscious, and in no mood to explain himself. 

“Let me walk you home, alright?” The hand squeezed his shoulder. 

“Fuck,” he swore. 

If Merlin thought any differently of him, he didn’t show it. Slowly they walked up the lane and around the bend to their homes. Their shoulders bumped occasionally, but Arthur attributed it only to the fact that he wasn’t stable on his feet at all. He didn’t speak, and was happy that Merlin didn’t either. Somehow, it helped him to collect his thoughts and sober up slightly. 

They arrived at Arthur’s house and he looked up his drive. His treacherous car was parked safely to the side, behind some large bushes, and the curtains of the house were closed. The fresh air and the walk had done him well, but his feet and nose were freezing. 

“What’s wrong?” Merlin asked, noticing his hesitation. 

“Nothing,” Arthur said. “The house is so cold. I don’t want to…” The words were out before he realised. 

“Maybe... I can offer you a drink?” 

Arthur chuckled awkwardly. “I may have had too much already.” Besides, he thought, Merlin had said he wasn’t drinking, hadn’t he?

“How about… tea?” 

While a gust of wind cruelly pierced through his clothes, draining the life further out of his extremities, Arthur just stared at him. The three words were so simple and yet something about them sounded so good to him. He stepped forwards to Merlin, who in turn wordlessly led the way to his house. 

  
  


*** 

With a cup of tea in his tingling hands and a crackling fire warming his cheeks until the skin pulled taut, Arthur felt like a new man. The room was suffocatingly warm and cosy. Several lit candles across the room gently eased a warm light across a multitude of strange items on display: overflowing bookcases, decorated vases, statues and figurines littered the room, which Arthur presumed had all belonged to Merlin’s parents. 

Merlin puttered about the house for a few minutes before returning with a small plate of mini cupcakes, and he placed it strategically within Arthur’s reach. Merlin had taken off his thick coat and sweater, and Arthur was surprised to note how little was left of him in a T-shirt. It made him look young. 

Arthur shifted in his seat on the old brown leather couch which was, honest to God, even uglier than the one in his own house, and stared into the mesmerising dance of the flames before him. He had told Merlin about the paint job on Cedric’s house, and together they had come up with a plan to go over everything in detail the following morning. 

“The graffiti confuses me,” Merlin admitted, standing beside a large cupboard and digging through several piles of paper. 

“Why? They’re placed at locations related to the events.” 

Merlin extracted a large folder. “Not all of them. There’s another one at a local school.” 

“Secondary?” 

“No, primary,” Merlin clarified. He sunk down on the couch and swung his feet up over the chaise longue with the folder in his lap. The candles alight on the coffee table sputtered in protest of his movement. 

Arthur shook his head and aimed to drink a sip of his tea, before bursting out, “What kind of sick person puts slurs on a primary school!” 

Merlin shrugged. “They weren’t slurs. I have a picture of it somewhere. Here.” 

Taking the picture, Arthur read ‘Your souls are safe. Listen to the great voice.’ The paint was purple once more. “It’s the same person.” 

“Maybe,” Merlin said. 

Arthur eyed the last mini cupcake and decided against eating it. “What does it even mean, ‘the great voice’?” 

Merlin shrugged. 

Arthur thought aloud. “It means either the person with the voice is great, or that the voice itself is great. And when it means both, essentially the phrase comes down to ‘shut up and listen’. 

“Someone is trying to tell us something,” Merlin agreed. 

“No, someone is trying to make us listen, it’s an entirely different thing,” Arthur said. 

Merlin sat up and nodded at him. “You may be onto something here. But do you think he or she is the killer?” 

Arthur turned to him. “I told you, it’s a ‘he’. His footprints were large, the imprint deep.” 

“What about the lights in the sky?” Merlin asked. 

Arthur sipped his tea further and thought about it. “It could be a low flight, if the wind is strong then we wouldn’t hear the engines, not that much anyway.” 

Merlin’s eyes were transfixed somewhere on Arthur’s shoulder. “Did it seem that way to you?” 

“What, do you think it was actually a UFO like Gwaine said?” 

Suddenly Merlin looked at him directly. “Gwaine said that?” 

“Yes, also that it wasn’t the first time this was spotted. Why? What do you know about this?” 

Putting the folder away, Merlin got up. “Nothing really.” 

Arthur put his teacup down. “You know _something_. Listen, I’ve been very open and honest with you tonight.” 

“Well, the only thing I know,” Merlin said cautiously, licking his lips, “is that it’s not an airline. I checked all local flight paths. I did that… months ago.” 

“See, so it’s not just happening now. It’s been going on. But how is Cedric’s death connected?” 

“I’m not sure yet, but we’re going to have to go out and investigate,” Merlin said. “Wait here.” 

Arthur waited while he heard Merlin’s footsteps go upstairs. He finished the last cupcake absentmindedly, then cursed himself for having given in. They were really good. 

He nearly coughed it out when Merlin appeared in the living room again with a pile of clothes and handed them to Arthur. 

Arthur refused to take them. “What the hell is this?” 

“Clothes,” Merlin said. 

“I can see that.” 

“When we go out to investigate tomorrow, well… you’ll need to dress warmer.” 

“I can dress myself, _Mer_ lin. And _what_ is this?” He held up some wooly fabric decorated with various shapes and found out that it was a holiday sweater. It was the ugliest thing he had ever seen, with reindeer and snowflakes and little santa hats embroidered through the thick green wool. 

“It’s too large for me,” Merlin clarified. “Here’s some socks and…” 

“No, Merlin.” 

“I’m looking out for you,” Merin started. 

“I can look after myself,” Arthur huffed. 

“Like you’ve been doing? Coming here with no food, to a house you don’t know, getting drunk, and freezing your ears off every time I see you?” 

“The house was not my fault!” Arthur said and threw a rolled up pair of socks at him. Merlin ducked instantly and they suddenly heard a scuffling of feet behind them as the cat ran away from the sudden assault in its direction. 

They both stared at the tail disappearing into the hallway, glanced at each other momentarily and burst out laughing. Arthur noticed the sheer open laugh Merlin had shared with him and reveled in it. 

“Your cat,” he said, still chuckling. “Did you know he comes over to visit? At Seren Wen?” 

Merlin lifted an eyebrow. “What?” 

“He was inside the house this morning. Did he… do you leave him enough food when you go on your trips?” 

“Oh, yeah. He has plenty of food… and he hunts. I ehm…” Merlin looked shaken, avoiding Arthur’s gaze. 

“I didn’t mean anything by it, he looks like fine... and round.” 

“Fine and round,” Merlin repeated, suppressing a yawn. 

Arthur got up feeling lightheaded. He put the clothes down on the couch, without any intent on taking them along. “Well, if we’re going to brainstorm tomorrow, I should… uh… head out.” 

The joy on Merlin’s face left, and he joined him in the narrow hall, handing him his leather jacket. “I thought you said the house is too cold,” he said quietly.

“Well, it’s a short walk up the stairs,” Arthur sighed. 

“You could...ehm...” Merlin said. 

“I’ll be fine,” Arthur said. While he zipped up the jacket, Merlin handed him his scarf. They were huddled together in the small space. Perhaps it was the late hour, the alcohol in his system, or perhaps just wishful thinking, but just for a moment Arthur thought he saw something in Merlin’s look. 

No. It couldn’t be. 

Uther’s voice rang through his head that there was nothing there for him. “Good night, Merlin.” 

Merlin nodded but didn’t reply. Holding his lips stiffly pressed together, he leaned past Arthur to open the door for him. He smelled good, Arthur noticed, and bit his lip. 

Arthur stepped out, instantly enveloped in subzero temperatures and heard the door close behind him. 

He started to walk away, though his gut told him it was wrong. He shook his head and buried his nose into his scarf. Everything inside of him was telling him that he was making a mistake. He shouldn’t be listening to Uther. The winds swept through his hair. He glanced at the street lights making out the snowy street ahead of him, and turned back to look at Merlin’s house. 

It was that turn that did it. Through the glass pane in the door he could see Merlin’s silhouette still behind it, looking out after him. 

‘ _You could…ehm...’_

What if? What if there had been something there?

Losing his train of thought, he turned back to the house. One cautious step, the next placed in front of the first, then the next. He wasn’t just imagining this, was he? 

The door opened. 

As if they did not belong to him, he felt his legs speed up, hurrying across the frozen path. He practically jumped up the steps. A hand reached out and took a hold of his jacket, pulling him inside. The door shut with a bang. 


	9. Agreements

Merlin’s back met with the far side of the hall, where Arthur pinned him, holding onto his T-shirt. Merlin’s eyes were wide, but he was compliant, fist still grabbing his jacket. Arthur wasn’t sure who was holding who in place. His mouth hovered close to Merlin’s. 

“It’s not just me?” he asked cautiously. Even now his brain told him this was a risk and he shouldn’t be doing this, his father’s words echoing through his mind. He could almost give in to those words, as he had many times, were it not for Merlin’s fierce expression, for the way his lips parted, or for the way his head tilted. 

It was Merlin who kissed him. For a moment all thoughts that belonged to the world fled to some distant place and Arthur melted into the sensation of Merlin’s lips against his. He closed his eyes. There was only darkness, and inside of the darkness him, and Merlin. A boldness ignited within him and he kissed back. An unbearable heat surged through him. This was what he wanted. 

Then the absurdity struck him. He was back in the hallway, wearing his coat indoors and sweating like a pig in the oven-like temperatures Merlin kept his place. Somewhere in a room a cat meowed. And Arthur stared at Merlin in shock. 

“Not just you,” Merlin said reassuringly, but his voice wavered. 

Arthur sighed. “Merlin…” He tested the name on his tongue. It meant something different now than it had earlier that day, than it had even five minutes ago. 

Merlin was looking at his lips, at his face. “I wasn’t sure… you said you were getting married. What about your girlfriend?” 

“I don’t have one. I don’t think I ever had…” From this close he could look at every piece of Merlin he hadn’t seen before: the way his hair fell over his forehead, how the light fell over his cheekbones, and the dimple in his chin. He wa close enough to feel the flush of Merlin’s skin. He wanted to lean into that fully, wanted to consume him. 

“But you had a life with her?” Merlin asked. Always pushing it with those questions, Arthur thought. 

“No, just a semblance of it. All just a show. This… this is me…” He kissed Merlin again, pushing his full weight against him for good measure, pressing him against the wall of the narrow hall. Merlin stumbled over a row of shoes before finding solid ground. Their bodies met and it was like fire. Merlin’s mouth opened eagerly to his, their tongues dancing a playful battle, evenly matched in intensity. Merlin’s arms came up around his shoulders and pulled him in further, deepening their frantic kisses. 

Finally Arthur broke away, lungs starved for breath. “God, it’s been years since I’ve been with a man. Tell me… tell me you’re over eighteen…” 

Merlin leaned his head back against the wall with a thud, clearly affronted. “I’m twenty-three.” His lips snarled. It was adorable. 

When a drop of sweat rolled down his side inside his shirt, jersey, and jacket, Arthur realised he was desperately uncomfortable. He took a step back, releasing Merlin from the wall and began taking off his scarf. “You’re not going to ask me my age?” 

“I don’t need to. You’re twenty-eight,” Merlin said, the corner of his mouth lifting. 

Arthur hung up his jacket and kicked off his shoes. “And how do you know?” 

Merlin opened and closed his mouth, and looked down. “Town history, just some facts.” 

When he approached Merlin there was a different look in his eye, something fearful. “You did the maths… based on facts about Seren Wen?” 

“Yes. Your mother’s death was a big deal in the village. Many were shocked. No one knew what happened to her son. The father took the child away after her passing.” 

Arthur shook his head. “You’re telling it wrong. She moved with my father to Windsor, to his estate. That’s where I was born.”

Merlin tilted his head curiously. “The records state that she died here. There was a photograph printed in the paper of her walking through the village with you in a pram. It’s in the papers. They said she passed away of an illness. There’s a headstone…” 

Arthur was staring at him. At all this information pouring out of Merlin. A sick feeling twisted in his gut, pulling him off balance. He steadied himself against a wall. “That’s impossible. You’re making this up,” Arthur accused. Why would he say these things? 

“I don’t know,” Merlin said, “I only researched the house. Look, I wasn’t born yet, so there’s nothing that I know for sure. But it’s all there in the papers. I can show you. Tomorrow we can head over to the library, and…” 

Arthur felt something rolling down his face. He wasn’t certain when his eyes had turned wet. 

“I’m sorry,” Merlin told him. 

“No… don’t be.” Arthur wiped at his cheek and turned away from him, focusing on the patterns of the wallpaper instead. 

A hand came to rest on his shoulder and squeezed. It felt completely different from the squeeze outside the bar earlier that night. And yet so similar in grounding him. Merlin, in his own way, looked out for him. 

“You’re exhausted,” Merlin said. 

“The library, tomorrow…” Arthur whispered and nodded. He covered Merlin’s hand on his shoulder with his own, feeling the skin, offering a squeeze of his own. 

“Yeah,” Merlin said. “Do you want to stay?” 

Arthur looked once into his worried glance. He let go of Merlin’s hand in order to cup his cheek and leaned in for a kiss. When Merlin accepted it, light and soft, full of promise, Arthur knew he would be lost. 

“Yes. Just to sleep, is that alright?” 

Merlin nodded, trailing his hand down Arthur’s chest for good measure. There was promise in that gesture, and Arthur felt like he could make use of that. But not now, not yet. Not while his mind was a jumble. 

He watched as Merlin turned to the living room, closed the old iron doors around the dying fire in the hearth, blew out the candles and cleaned up the mugs and the plate with the cupcakes. Arthur wasn’t sure how he had missed the candles, cupcakes, and all the other things Merlin had prepared for him. He eyed the pile of clothes. It dawned upon him that everything Merlin had done was by design. 

“You coming?” 

The lights were out in the other rooms and Arthur followed Merlin up the narrow carpeted stairs. He was shown into a small bedroom under a slanted roof, filled with dark wooden furniture and thick green blankets. A small bedside lamp was switched on and Merlin pointed out the attached bathroom and excused himself. 

Kilgharrah jumped onto the double bed and sniffed the side that lay crumpled, where several books were stacked onto the cabinet beside it. There were more books on the shelves lining the wall above the headboard. The room was cooler than the rest of the house, which suited Arthur, and it smelled… well he wasn’t sure what it smelled like, but he assumed it would be Merlin. 

Feeling worn, he sagged onto the other side of the bed and dressed down to his boxer shorts. Merlin’s absence gave him reason enough to doubt him being there at all. It was strange. His own bedroom was only a couple of yards away. His fiancée—even though she wasn’t anymore—could never know about this, and his father would disapprove vehemently if he knew. He wondered what his mother would say. 

Arthur still felt drunk, and he closed his eyes for a moment, until he heard a door shut and feet padding over to the other side of the bed. Merlin clambered in wearing briefs and a T-shirt, and he looked at Arthur expectantly. “Is this okay?” 

“Yes, fine,” he said and smiled. As he climbed in, lifting the blanket over his feet, he didn’t miss the glance Merlin shot his way, taking in his figure. “Is this okay for you?” 

“Yeah, of course.” Merlin turned off the bedside lamp. 

Arthur hit the pillow and was out like a light. 

  
  


*** 

A shrill sound shook Arthur out of a dream and he abruptly sat up. A light was switched on. For a moment the room looked bizarre to him, too small, too dirty, too stuffed, and he had no idea where he was. The shrill sound called out again. Beside him something moved. It was Merlin, who reached over the side of the bed, pushed some clothing, papers, and books aside and revealed the handset of an old phone. 

“Merlin,” he answered the phone, voice broken. 

Yes, of course, Arthur thought. Merlin. 

Arthur scanned the room for a clock, but found none. He reached over to his watch, perched on the night stand and peered. It was just over five o’clock in the morning. And his head was bursting. 

“Mm, yes,” Merlin answered groggily. 

Arthur got up and walked to the small bathroom to take a leak. 

“I did. It’s safe.”

Arthur flushed and stared at himself in the bathroom mirror. He looked sleepy and his hair was swept to all sides. He tried to fix his hair a little and scratched his bum. 

“Of course. Don’t worry.” 

While Arthur filled a small glass with water and drank it, he heard the handset ‘click’ back into place. He absentmindedly wondered who still used a landline. 

When he lay back down, Merlin was turned away from him and had turned off the light. Surrounded by darkness Arthur lay awake some time, listening to Merlin’s steady breathing, before falling asleep. 


	10. Grill

When he woke again, he felt lethargic and heavy. Too heavy in fact. He opened his eyes and frowned when he appeared to be face to face with the back end of a cat. 

“Move, arsehole,” he grumbled. 

Kilgharrah was curled up on Arthur’s chest and swung his tail affectionately over Arthur’s face, revealing parts that even with Arthur’s acceptance of his own inclination should not be the first thing to gaze upon early in the morning. Arthur turned his head away and attempted to push the cat off. He noticed that Merlin was already gone from the room. Listening for a sign, he concluded that Merlin was downstairs, shoving pots around in the kitchen. 

Shoving the reluctant cat aside, Arthur got up. It hissed at him and ran out the door. 

Arthur showered in Merlin’s tiny bathroom and got dressed. A delicious smell drifted into the bedroom. He checked the time. Eight thirty-seven. No wonder he felt off. He usually didn’t sleep that late. He hung his towel up somewhere decent and padded down the stairs.

A wave of warm air greet him as he entered the living room. The hearth was crackling away and offered a pleasant glow. He spotted a pot of tea staying warm over a tea light on a large, round table in the dining room. 

Arthur followed the smell which led him into the kitchen. His stomach both anticipated and feared the concept of a filling meal, after a night of drinking. He spotted two plates on the counter, with baked beans and toast lying ready. 

Merlin stood at the stove, atop an old rickety Aga, and was just done scrambling eggs. 

“Smells great,” Arthur said, observing him. 

Merlin didn’t turn to look at him, but turned off the gas and poured the eggs onto the plates. “I ran out of bacon. Sorry.” 

“Well, then I can't really call it breakfast, can I?” Arthur bit his lip. Here Merlin was cooking him breakfast, something he hadn’t asked for, or expected. He knew that he’d been a royal prat on the trip to Asda as well. And yet, Merlin was putting all this effort into a good breakfast for him.

As Merlin put the pan back down on the stove, Arthur came to stand beside him. He ran a hand down Merlin’s back slowly. “You don’t have to fatten me up, you know…” 

Turning his head, Merlin grinned. “Well, I can’t help but notice you like rich foods.” 

“Oy,” Arthur complained. “I can handle it. I work out!” 

“I guess you do,” Merlin replied, with a glint of something in his eyes. 

Arthur raised an eyebrow in challenge. 

Merlin’s smile turned shy the longer Arthur looked at him. He took a deep breath and said softly, “I wasn’t sure if you wanted to go through with this.” 

Arthur looked away, over the prepared breakfast plates and out the window. It was raining. “Yes, I do. I mean, I’m only here for a short time, like I told you before. If that’s fine with you…?” 

“Are you kidding?” Merlin said. 

Arthur focused on him again. 

  
“It’s not everyday that a hot city bloke with an ‘I’m lost, please take me home with you’ look crosses my path,” Merlin said, and chuckled. 

“I’m _not_ lost,” Arthur grumbled and put his arms around Merlin’s waist, pulling him close. 

Merlin didn’t resist. “And yet you’re here, in my home.”  

Arthur huffed. “Breakfast is getting cold.” They shared a soft, experimental kiss before breaking apart to collect their plates. 

Merlin’s smile didn’t disappear. Not when they walked to the dining table nor when they sat and ate in silence. Arthur felt it tug at the corner of his lips after some time, despite his morning grump. Merlin had called him ‘hot’ after all. 

“We should get started on the case,” Arthur suggested. 

“Sure,” Merlin said. “Tea?” 

Armed with a cup of tea each, piles of newspapers, blank paper, markers, pencils and a pile of Merlin’s publications, they set to work. 

Arthur held up his pen. “We have to begin with the victim, everything is central to him. Let’s write down everything we know about Cedric and start from there.” 

Some time later, piles of papers, documents and notes were strewn across the table. Merlin sat back and began reading what they had so far. “Okay so, Cedric Meyers was a 25-year-old man, originally from Birmingham. He came to live in Camlot around four years ago, right after dropping out of college. He had some odd jobs in town including working at a riding school as an instructor and groom.” 

Something didn’t sit well with Arthur. The fact that young bloke who spent some time in college would move to Camlot seemed utterly bizarre to him. Who in their right mind would settle here for life? 

Merlin continued. “So, in the past few months his behaviour changed. He boasted about getting a new job from an out-of-town company called The Golden Crow. This is a jewelry company based in London and their phone lines were suddenly disconnected.” 

“Yes, the day after the murder, PC Smith said.”  

“Right.” Merlin wrote the details down. 

“His manager was Mr Cornelius Sigan, as it said on their very nondescript company homepage, and he appears to be the CEO. Neither Cedric or Sigan are on LinkedIn, or social media. Cedric’s mobile phone was never found.”

“We’ll have to ask the police if they will dig up the phone records,” Arthur said and wrote that down as well.

Merlin continued. “So, the specifics: Cedric was 5’8, lean, and could be seen wearing branded track suits, and trainers. He was a chain smoker, but not a heavy drinker. He frequented the bar, but was seen less often lately.” 

“I remember now,” Arthur said. “Last night at the bar Vivian told us that he started buying flowers recently.” 

“Did he have any visitors?” Merlin asked. 

“No one said anything about that. But we should ask around.” 

“Yeah we should. Ehm, perhaps their neighbors saw something.” 

“The Orkneys?” 

Merlin shifted in his seat. “Yes. That’s right.” 

Arthur frowned, noticing Merlin’s discomfort. “Hold on. What about the Orkneys?” 

“Nothing,” Merlin said rather too quickly. 

“You know something. Is this about their marriage problems?” 

Merlin flinched. “What?” 

Arthur leaned over the table. “Gwaine told me everything. You don’t have to worry about me. I get it.” 

Furrowing his brow, Merlin swallowed. “Sure.” 

Arthur averted his eyes and tried to ignore the painful expression that had just crossed Merlin’s face. There was more going on than met the eye. It irked him. 

As if nothing just happened, Merlin continued. “Cedric’s head was smashed in with a blunt instrument that hasn’t been publicly defined yet by the police. It’s uncertain if they found a murder weapon yet.” 

“Wait, wait. You’re skipping a whole step.” 

Merlin raised an eyebrow at him. “I’m reading the list.” 

“No. You skipped how Cedric got into the grocery store. No open locks were found, no windows were smashed in. He was locked inside. Gaius says his keys were confiscated by the police in the morning, so we know that he had them between the time of Cedric’s death and when he came to open the shop.” 

“What, do you think the killer stole Gaius’ keys and locked the door behind him?” 

Arthur shook his head. “Unlikely. That would mean the killer entered the shop before Cedric did.” 

Merlin licked his lips. “Are we certain that Cedric intended to enter the shop?” 

“Of course,” Arthur said. “Breaking and entering falls entirely outside his character. He had a home and a job. Why would he go into a grocery shop to begin with?” 

“No idea,” Merlin said. 

“Unless…” 

Merlin tilted his head, waiting for Arthur to finish his sentence. 

“No, there’s got to be some other explanation.” 

“What is it?” 

“There’s three things that don’t make sense,” Arthur said. “First of all, Gaius wasn’t the one who discovered the body. That means he was late to the crime scene. On any normal day he would have been present already to open the shop. He would have been there much earlier than the time we all arrived. Who called in the murder?” 

“I believe that was Elyan,” Merlin said.

“So why was Gaius late?” Arthur asked. 

“I don’t know,” Merlin said, raising both his eyebrows. 

“We’ll have to ask him. Secondly, how did he hurt his arm? You told him you hoped his arm was feeling better.” 

Merlin frowned and remained silent. 

“Well?” 

“Last week…” he trailed off. “He, ehm, tripped on the last steps of the stairs. Caught himself on his arm, you know?” 

Arthur stared at him. It wasn’t the truth, he felt it, but he shrugged it off. “Okay, fine. The third point is: why doesn’t anyone seem to be bothered about the fact that Cedric broke into a _grocery store_ and nothing was reported stolen?” 

Merlin had the decency to look somewhat abashed at that. “Well…” 

Arthur had the feeling he was encroaching on something that this town had stowed away. “You know what it was Cedric wanted.” 

Merlin gave Arthur a hard stare. 

Arthur steeled himself. “Is it drugs?” 

At that, Merlin burst into a jolly laugh.

“Merlin, this is serious! Is Gaius a drug dealer?” Arthur pushed. 

“No! No… Nothing like that.” 

“Then what?” Arthur threw his papers down. “I can’t take this case seriously if you can’t take me seriously.” 

“It’s not legal, alright? But it’s not harmful… not the way Gaius treats it.” 

  
Arthur sighed and pinched his nose. “You’re not going to tell me? Do the police know about this?” 

Merlin crossed his arms and averted his gaze. 

“They do, don’t they?” Arthur concluded. “Shit.” He shook his head. The strangeness of this village kept increasing and he wasn’t certain whether anyone could be trusted. It was a situation he had manoeuvred before. Everyone played their own game. This was the same in law. 

“Right. Okay,” Arthur said, setting his mind straight. “So whatever it is that Cedric was after, did he get it?” 

“No,” Merlin said. 

Arthur pointed at him. “Aha. And how do you know that? Gaius hasn’t been allowed back into his own shop since the event. He can’t have gone inside to check. You _know_ what it was. Were you there?” 

“No, I wasn’t there,” Merlin said, but he was becoming uncomfortable. 

“You’re lying,” Arthur said. 

“What’s with all the questions?” Merlin said, in his attempt to make light of it. 

Arthur put his pen down. “Perhaps this is a bad idea after all. All of this.” He leaned back in his chair and looked out of the window. When there was no reply, he ran a hand through his hair and pushed his chair back. “You know, I do this professionally. But then when I team up with someone, they aren’t involved. It’s called a conflict of interests. If you are on the defendant’s bench, then I can’t do this.” He stood up and turned towards the door. 

“I’m not involved, but...” Merlin said, his voice soft but urgent. He hugged his hands between his knees and made himself small. “I saw the crime scene before Elyan called it in that morning. I have nothing to do with anything else regarding Cedric’s death.” 

Arthur put his hands in his sides. “This is important information, Merlin. What if they find something there that incriminates you?” 

“I’m not a suspect,” he said. “I only helped Gaius.” 

“Wait, Gaius was there too?” 

Merlin sighed. “I’m not supposed to tell anyone. Gaius lives not far from the shop. There’s a hidden room underneath the shop that only he knows how to get at. The part the police know about. There was something hidden there, which Cedric was looking for. Gaius saw someone go in.” 

“He saw Cedric?” 

“No,” Merlin said. “Someone else. The door was already open.” 

Arthur pulled his chair back around and straddled it, looking sharply at Merlin. “Did he get a good look?” 

“His eyes are not so good anymore. Besides, he was shocked. He went downstairs to put on his coat and grab his key. He phoned me to meet him in the shop.” 

“Let me guess. The killer or killers were gone?” 

Merlin nodded. “Gaius is rattled.” 

“And you’re certain Gaius isn’t the killer? He has no alibi, he is injured, and he was physically there to see the body!” 

“One hundred per cent!” 

He leaned closer. “Did the killer find what Cedric was looking for?” 

Merlin frowned. “No.” 

Arthur tried to see truth in his eyes and found conviction there. He waited for Merlin to break his gaze or to close up again but he didn’t. “This morning… that was Gaius on the phone.” 

Merlin’s eyes went wide. 

“There are three important things you’ve just told me. First of all it’s not just the killer’s motivation we’re after, but also Cedric’s motivation for theft. Gaius already said he didn’t keep money in the shop, so it definitely has to do with your little illegal ring of something or other. And thirdly, you took whatever it was to safety, didn’t you? You told Gaius as much over the phone.” 

Merlin stared at him in astonishment. “Are you interrogating me?” 

“You’re not the only one with questions,” he said. “And clearly the case needed that information. Now, is there anything else vital you’re holding back from me?” 

“No!” Merlin said with conviction. 

“Excellent,” Arthur said and stood up again. 

“Where are you going?” 

Arthur paused in door opening to the hall and looked back at Merlin sitting at the table. “I’m going to have a little chat with Gaius, to hear what he thinks.”

Merlin’s chair scraped on the floor and he was in the hall in a mere second. “I’m coming with you.” 

“You’re afraid I’ll check up your story with him?” 

“I’m coming along to explain to Gaius how you figured it out, despite me not telling you anything.” 

“I’m starting to wonder why you agreed to work with me,” Arthur said and stepped into his shoes. 

“So am I,” Merlin chuckled as he put on his jacket. 

“You didn’t, at first,” Arthur said and reached out for his jacket. 

Merlin wrapped his thick red scarf around his neck and sighed. “Do you trust me? I get the feeling you don’t….” 

Arthur put his jacket back on the peg and sighed. “Trust is a difficult concept for me right now, and that fact has very little to do with you. You won’t tell me the truth because you think you’re protecting or helping someone. With something illegal. I don’t know what that means… whether that’s good or bad.” 

“Would you believe me if I say it’s not at all bad?” 

Arthur looked Merlin over, bit his lip and turned back towards the living room. “Wait here.” 

Merlin waited and zipped up his coat. 

A moment later Arthur appeared with a sideways grin. He was wearing one of the ugly holiday sweaters, green wool stretching across his shoulders and making him look like a giant cabbage. Arthur thought the cheesy grin that spread across Merlin’s face alone was worth putting the damn thing on. The slender fingers that splayed out over his chest, pushing the fabric straight perhaps more so. 

“So, you’re taking my advice?” Merlin purred. 

Arthur swallowed. “I’m saying… yes, I trust you. For now.” He pulled Merlin’s scarf down from where it covered his chin and took a step closer. There was something instinctual in his attraction to Merlin that was both dangerous and exhilarating. He wasn’t certain if he trusted Merlin, but he knew that he _wanted_ to. “Sorry for grilling you. It… comes with the territory.” 

“I know all about that,” Merlin said, leaning in, “trust me.” 

“I do,” Arthur conceded and gripped the scarf, yanking it close until their mouths met. Their kiss was hot and sloppy, different from before. It was full of questions and concessions, full of things to learn about each other, and other things to hide. They didn’t close their eyes, but regarded each other instead while they kissed. Merlin’s arms slid around his waist and pulled him closer. 

Arthur slid his fingers into Merlin’s hair and deepened the kiss, surrendering to the desire that was building up inside of him. He closed his eyes and gave in to his feelings. Merlin was steady enough to meet the savage urgency that began between them. After a while they broke apart. Merlin bit Arthur’s lip teasingly and stared at him through his lashes. 

“Tell me something. Truthfully,” Arthur whispered hoarsely. He cupped Merlin’s face and ran a thumb over his cheek. 

“Mm,” Merlin answered, hands trailing down Arthur’s sides. 

“What happens if the killer finds out you’ve hidden it? Are you in danger?” 

The hands paused. “I don’t know.” A worried dimple appeared on Merlin’s chin. 

“Then we have to keep our eyes peeled, yes?” 

Merlin nodded and took a step back. “Yes.” He composed himself, reached for his keys and they left for town. 


	11. Secrets

It took little effort for Gaius to own up to his participation in their nightly check on the store, thanks to Merlin’s gentle persuasion that neither of them were police, and they both knew that Gaius was not the killer. 

“It was cruelly done,” Gaius said, looking ashen. He was wearing only green once more, standing out like a white-haired vegetable, seated in his old, comfy chair. 

“What do you suppose the weapon was?” Arthur asked, putting his tea cup aside. They were sitting in Gaius’ modest home. It was a well kept mess of strange objects gathered over the years. Walls were decorated in strange old paintings, dreamcatchers and shelves littered with old books and strange crystals. 

Gaius shrugged. “I couldn’t say.” 

Arthur leaned back in a creaky old chair that badly needed reupholstering. “How did you hurt your arm?” 

The old man held his elbow and shrugged. “I slipped on the ice.” 

Arthur shot a glance at Merlin, who was purposefully avoiding his gaze. Arthur clenched his jaw and bit back the feelings that were welling up in him. The feeling akin to the frustration and anger that he got when he thought about Sophia. 

A sharp pain tore inside of his chest, pushing against his ribs. He sucked in a breath and tried to hide his discomfort. It felt as if he had swallowed a stone and it was tearing at his insides. It hurt. When the pain subsided, he recollected himself, reaching deep inside to find his calm before asking another question. 

“What do you know about Cedric’s intent? On what he wanted to steal from your shop?” 

“I have no idea,” Gaius said. He seemed perfectly honest in his statement. 

Arthur sighed, previous anger ebbing away, and replaced by new frustrations.

“I mean,” Gaius said more calmly, “that I do not know how he came to learn about it.” 

“You can’t tell me what it is?” 

“I’m afraid it is a well-guarded secret. And one that is entrusted to me personally.” Gaius was unperturbed. 

“By whom?” 

“I cannot answer that question,” Gaius said. 

Arthur sighed again and wondered if it was easier to push a river back up the hill. “Okay, you say you are personally entrusted, but you’re not the _only_ one entrusted with the information.” He glanced at Merlin who was studying his shoelaces with particular interest. 

Gaius measured him carefully, taking his time before leaning forward and saying, “Indeed.” 

“And what does it have to do with the Golden Crow?” 

At this, Gaius stammered, “I actually don’t know what you mean.” 

Since Arthur was having trouble believing either of them. He shook his head and stood up, walking around the room. “Cedric was a college dropout, and his jobs were more of the physical kind. He wasn’t a mastermind beyond the labyrinth that is government taxes. So, with your cleverly hidden secrets,” he waved his hands in the air as if the secrets were completely unimportant. “There’s no way he could have learned what you were hiding by himself, right?” 

Gaius glanced at Merlin uncertainly. 

“The company Cedric was working for was called the Golden Crow, and it was based in London. Their trade is jewelry. So, if your item is a jewel, then this connection might be at the heart of it.” 

Merlin was looking at Arthur with worry, something Arthur couldn’t decipher. Something much larger than what they were discussing. 

Arthur chose not to remark on it, and continued. “We know he only got the job recently. So, I’m asking you this: could his job at the Golden Crow be related to how he came to know about whatever it is you’re protecting?”

“Merlin?” Gaius asked. 

“I don’t know,” Merlin replied. 

Arthur pushed onwards. “And what about the killer? How might someone learn of this?” 

They both remained silent. 

And onwards. “Gaius, are you still in danger? Is that why the shop is remaining closed? Will someone come back for it? Is it a trap?” 

“The shop will remain closed for now,” Gaius replied solemnly. 

Arthur cursed inwardly. He wasn’t going to get anything from either of these two, and his patience was running thin. So he sat down again and decided to change tactics. “What about your spare set of keys? Who had access to those?” 

Gaius raised an eyebrow. “I don’t own a spare set. My keys were handed over the police.” 

“Well I know _that_ to be a lie. Do you expect me to believe that after a burglary and a dead body in your shop, you immediately opened up the hidden basement to hand over that item to Merlin to safeguard? No, that’s too risky. Besides, Merlin wasn’t in town yet. You waited until the police were done with investigating the body, for attention to be drawn away from the shop, but not long enough that someone would try to break in again. You went back with your spare key.” 

The eyebrow lowered and Gaius nearly pouted. “I suppose it might have happened like that.” 

Merlin sat quietly, his leg twitching. If Arthur wasn’t mistaken, there was a small curl of a smile on his lip. For some reason Merlin was enjoying this, or feeling terribly embarrassed. 

“Well, are the keys safe?” 

“Certainly,” Gaius conceded at last. 

Arthur felt victorious. At least he’d had one straight answer out of the man. “What about the graffiti on your shop, how long has that been there?” 

“On the side of the building?” Gaius seemed relieved after the change of topic. “About a year I’d say.” 

“You haven’t removed it?” 

“Oh no, it’s not harmful.” 

Arthur thought back but he couldn’t remember the words. “What does it say? Do you know?” 

Merlin answered for Gaius. “To pass is to be judged.” 

Leaning over to Gaius, Arthur asked, “And do you think this graffiti is intended for you?” 

Merlin stood up and went to stand next to the window. “It’s on the other side of the building. You can’t see it from here. It’s also not something Gaius would see as he walked the path from his home to the shop, or while he’s at work.” 

“So it’s meant for customers?” Arthur asked Merlin. 

“That seems more logical. Or someone who faces that wall, or passes there frequently. Who knows?” 

Pouring himself and his guests another round of tea, Gaius smiled, seemingly unworried, but the smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. Arthur rubbed his chin deep in thought and Merlin stood next to the window. Minutes passed undisturbed and Arthur wasn’t certain if either of them would contribute anything willingly. It was nerve-racking. 

“Okay, how about this,” Arthur said. “Did Cedric visit the shop regularly for his groceries?” 

Gaius nodded. “Oh yes, everyone does. Well, nearly everyone.” 

“Nearly?” 

“The mayor has her groceries bought for her and her staff. And Tom Smith doesn’t get out much…” 

“Right. Well, about Cedric: did he buy anything different recently? We have reason to believe he was perhaps receiving a visitor, maybe someone special to him?” 

“Oh, no, nothing noticeable.” 

Arthur grit his teeth. He was reaching his boiling point. If he might have been tasked to solve this as a case for work, he knew he would hold on because it was expected of him, because his father held it over his head each time he didn’t perform. Because Pendragon Consultancy was increasingly in financial trouble in the recent past. He had told himself this case in Camlot was simply the distraction he needed, but this was more than he was willing to deal with. “Nothing out of the ordinary? Think back!” 

Gaius seemed to seriously consider it. “Perhaps more hygiene products? Shaving cream? Cologne, I think…” 

And then it dawned upon Arthur. “He was seeing someone.”

“Is that relevant?” Merlin asked. 

Arthur stood up again. “That changes _everything_! Whoever that was might know why Cedric would do something as dangerous to himself as breaking in.” 

“I don’t know if it’s the break-in that was dangerous,” Merlin said. 

“Well yes, it’s the thing you won’t talk about. That. Obviously. But my point is that not one but _two_ people came looking for it. If both Cedric _and_ the killer found out about it, then this is a big problem. We need to find out who he was dating.” 

“Why?” Merlin asked. 

Arthur stood up. “Because that person might be in danger too.” 

  
  


*** 

He had meant to go home after that talk to think about the case, or to put it from his mind. He could not still his worries. 

Instead he found himself taking a detour along the edge of town, following the stone wall that separated the roads from the farms and fields. Gaius and Merlin were getting on his nerves and hoarded more secrets than the whole UK government. By accepting this strange case he had meant to put his own problems from his mind. Problems about trust, reliability, and some good old-fashioned honesty. 

“Arthur!” 

He kept walking without looking back. Merlin was a mistake. A frivolity. He couldn’t get lost in him, not if he couldn’t be relied upon. Merlin’s word was worth very little, Arthur thought. He had lied to him before they set out to Gaius’s house, and he had lied just now as well. How could he trust him now? And if he couldn’t trust him, he would be walking into exactly the same trap as with Sophia. No, this was a very bad idea.  

Merlin ran and caught up with him, matching Arthur’s long, angry strides with nervous leaps of his own. “Don’t you want to go to the library?” 

Something in Arthur snapped. He stopped and shoved Merlin against the stone wall. “You think I would still go to the library after that farce? You think that I’m going to listen to anything more you say?” He punched him in the shoulder. The stinging burn in his chest flared up again, as if he had swallowed glass. 

Merlin flinched and looked at Arthur with shock. “Look, I’m sorry!” He pushed Arthur away from him, glaring. 

Arthur raged. He was angry at everyone and everything. At himself. At his helplessness to work out the total disasters of his wedding, his family, his relationships. “You don’t _get_ to say sorry, Merlin.” He shoved him again. 

Something struck him. The next thing Arthur saw was the sky. The pain registered second, bursting to life at his side. Arthur gasped and wrenched away from it. He felt disconnected and aware all at once to what was happening: how he'd been thrown on the ground, the snow soft and wet against his cheek. 

"Leave him the fuck alone!" someone yelled over him.

“Stop, Gwaine!” Merlin shouted.

The second kick never came, though the heavy boot skidded over the pavement. 

“If you lay a _finger_ on him,” Gwaine spat in his direction. 

“Get the hell away from me!” Arthur said, crawling back to his feet, trying to ignore the burn in his sternum and the throbbing at his ribs. 

It was only Merlin’s hand gripping Gwaine’s arm that stopped him from coming at Arthur again, the fury in his eyes something to behold. 

“Gwaine!” Merlin said. “Stop! I can take care of myself!”  
  


“I should report you to the police,” Gwaine said. “Or worse.” 

“Shut up, Gwaine,” Merlin warned. 

Arthur dusted himself off and felt a scrape on his hand, skin prickling from the dirt and ice mixing with the welling blood. “I’m just leaving anyway,” Arthur said. 

“No, wait,” Merlin said, pushing Gwaine aside and following. 

Arthur shook his head and started walking. The burn was fading. “Go away, Merlin.”  He cradled his ribs. 

Merlin’s hand grabbed his shoulder. 

_Not this time_ , Arthur thought. He spun around and stared squarely at him. “Either you tell me what the hell is going on, or I’m out.” 

Merlin chewed his lip and seemed to want to tell whatever it was. The hand on his shoulder stayed, squeezed as if it would somehow hold Arthur to the ground. 

Behind Merlin, Gwaine still stood, keeping an eye on the situation. Merlin squarely ignored him. 

“You’ve had your chance,” Arthur said and began pulling away. 

“Just wait. This isn’t easy,” Merlin begged. 

“Don’t do it, Merlin,” Gwaine said. “He doesn’t deserve it.” 

“What the _hell_ , Gwaine?” Arthur barked at him. “You think this is some fucking joke?” 

Gwaine glared. “Do you see me laughing?” 

“Gwaine,” Merlin said without turning to look at him, his voice light and shaky. “Go home.” 

“That’s where I came from,” he said surly. “I’m looking for Eira.” 

“Just go!” Merlin shouted. 

Gwaine stared at them, shoved his hands in his pockets and slowly, watchfully, began his stride that would take him to town. Arthur watched him leave, and felt Merlin relax and withdraw his hand. 

“I’m sorry,” Merlin said. 

“Shut up. You’re not,” Arthur said, but stopped himself when he saw the conflict in Merlin’s eyes. “I should apologise. I shouldn’t have shoved you. But I’m not sorry… about all the rest, I mean. However, this is it. I’m not interested in excuses.” 

“I know,” Merlin said and rolled his sore shoulder. “Forget it. But I do want to find out what’s going on. And you’re really good at figuring things out.” 

“Not good enough,” Arthur said and turned to leave. 

  
“You can’t walk away now,” Merlin said. “Not after all I told you.”

Arthur kept his eyes on the pavement in front of him. He made himself stare. If he looked back, he might give in. That was how Sophia did it. She looked at him with her beautiful eyes and he’d feel indebted to her for loving him. That’s how it always was. Arthur was in her debt, and in his father’s debt. He couldn’t be in Merlin’s debt too. 

“Watch me, Merlin. That’s what I’m doing.” 

He followed the path, passing an abandoned farm. Merlin followed him some distance behind. Arthur couldn’t stop him. After all, he lived next door. But Arthur had made up his mind: he would stop this investigation and go home. To London. Pick up whatever part of a job he still had left and...  

A sound distracted him from his thoughts. A sound that wasn’t Merlin. He stopped in his tracks and slowly lifted his head. Whatever was making that sound, it wasn’t good. 

A thick crack broke through the air. Arthur jerked to the source of the sound, and looked down the side street. His blood turned to ice when he spotted a large, dark figure. It was hunched over on the roadside of the lane up to the old, abandoned farm. Arthur couldn’t quite make out the shape. It was twice as large as a person and it sounded like it was eating something. 

Then it hit him at once. It wasn’t something. It was a person. 

“Mer… Merlin?” His breath came out in a cloud, voice broken and hoarse. Not at all what he had intended. He took a step back in the direction he came from and tried again. “Merlin?!” He had been right behind him, hadn’t he? He couldn’t be seeing this. This wasn’t real. 

The figure had a long, powerful back and thick, muscular legs which ended in claws. A thick tail much like a lion’s swished through the air. He couldn’t stop looking at the creature. For a moment he thought that he might be dreaming. 

But his senses were telling him that this was real. It was right there, black as soot, like a creature of the night. And it was feeding on something in the middle of the day, standing out like a black void against the snow. 

Just as he heard footsteps of Merlin catching up with him, the person the creature was devouring fell down on the pavement, body cruelly twisted and bleeding. Arthur recognised her by her blonde hair spilling out over the stones. Arthur fell to his knees at the gruesome sight. Blood filled the alleyway and colored the snow red.

“Oh God,” Arthur said, feeling sick. “It’s Eira…”

The creature lifted its head in his direction. Arthur was distantly aware that Merlin was calling for him. But his mind was engrossed in the sickening observation. The creature looked like a giant black lioness, thick muscles layered over one another, covered in black, shining fur. And it had _wings._

“...thur? Arthur! We’ve got to get out of here. Get up!” 

His legs wouldn’t work. His fists wouldn’t clench. He was made of stronger stuff than this, wasn’t he? He had always assumed so. What a ridiculous thought that was. 

A deafening roar filled the alleyway. The creature reared, lifted its legs front legs, spread its wings and jumped forward into a soaring attack. 

“Arthur!” 

Something nagged at the back of his mind. 

Something urgent. 

Survival. 

But felt powerless to respond to it, lamely staring at the sheer size of what was coming towards them. Merlin was pulling him up and away. At last, his legs came into action and he fell into the pull, stumbling aside, so the creature narrowly missed them. Claws swirling past his face. 

His senses came back to him the moment the creature had passed. 

“Merlin? Merlin?!” In his tumble he had lost sight of Merlin. He looked up and down the street. There was no one around. 

“No!” Arthur yelled. The creature couldn’t have gotten him, could it? Arthur had been in the line of attack, not Merlin. 

“Oh God, Merlin??” He called out but there was no one there. 

The creature made a large turn in the sky, screeched, and swooped around to resume its attack. Arthur looked around for help. He saw a curtain close in the rickety old house across the street. Apart from that movement, everything was deserted. Arthur pressed his back against the stone wall and looked up at the creature in the sky, wondering if he would be able to jump out of its way again. 

At that moment a blinding blue light hurled past him, brushing closely past his body. It was warm and smooth, and the surface was covered with iridescent blue scales. It dived in front of Arthur, facing the attacking creature and roared back at it in a deep growl. 

Arthur couldn’t believe his own mind when it formed the word ‘dragon’ as if out of nowhere. It wasn’t like a dragon he would imagine out of picture books, but it indisputably was, in fact, _a dragon_. 

Its body was long and snake-like. Its elongated head was long and smooth, maw lined with rows of small, sharp teeth. Its four short legs were strong and clawed. A thick blue row of spikes lined its spine all the way to its long tail. The wingless dragon stood on its hind legs and loomed towards the black creature, fierce and fearless. 

The creature had its attention focused entirely on the dragon, wings flapping angrily. The dragon darted forward and its blue body curled itself around the black creature. They erupted in a battle of claws, tails, and teeth. 

Arthur blinked and looked around. “Merlin? Where are you?” Merlin had to see this. No one would ever believe him otherwise. And he wanted to know that Merlin was safe. He _had_ to be safe. 

A blinding light and a burst of sound cracked through the air, knocking the wind out of him. Arthur staggered. He hit his head against the stone wall behind him, a blooming pain exploding across his skull, and he felt his consciousness fading, noises drowning away. 

Gold was the last thing he saw. Blue scales and golden eyes.


	12. Grounding

Arthur woke up in his king-sized bed at Seren Wen. He was dressed down to his boxer shorts and covered in thick blankets. For a moment he couldn’t remember who he was or what had happened. 

Then it all came back to him. He promptly sat upright, heart thundering in his chest. He took in a draw of breath to calm himself and startled at the pain that ripped up through his right side. On top of that his head was pounding. 

He got up, sped to the window, stubbornly wincing through his pain, and looked outside. It was dark. The sky was clear and most of the snow had disappeared after the long bouts of rain from the day before. It would be a day of black ice and slippery sidewalks. He searched for his watch, which he found piled on top of his neatly folded clothes. Six-thirty in the morning. 

He couldn’t remember coming home, he couldn’t remember anything since the attack. And he certainly didn’t normally place his watch on top of his clothing. He studied the scabs over the scrape on his hand. They looked cleaned. Someone had done this. Someone had taken him home. 

“Hello?” he called out. 

He put on his dressing gown and ran out of the room. He yelled through the hallway. “Is there anyone here?” 

  
Silence met his ears in a deafening roar. It was instantly filled by the sounds from the attack. The creature’s growl and the dragon’s reply. The sticky-wet sounds of when it had fed on poor Eira. It had actually _eaten_ her. 

Arthur promptly ran to the bathroom to throw up, heaving up bile as he hadn’t had anything to eat since breakfast the previous day. Afterwards he brushed his teeth and drank some water. The he caught a glimpse of his face in the mirror. 

The reflection in the mirror didn’t suit him. It didn’t look like the person he thought he was: the confident young urban professional, hard-working, and striving for the very best—for himself mostly. Instead he saw a broken person who had been attacked by something not from this world, and who had no idea who he was on top of that. 

Dazed, he wandered the house to check that everything was safe and sound. He double checked all the doors and windows. Standing by the last window to check, he glanced out to look at Merlin’s house. The lights were out and his car was gone. 

Although some rooms still had a bit of a whiff to them, the house finally felt warm and cosy. But it held no comfort to him, not yet. Not after all of this had happened. He fell into a panic, heaving for breath despite the sore spot on his ribs. Trembling, he sunk onto the couch, where he found his phone between two pillows. 

He found himself placing the battery back in and switching the device on with trembling fingers. As expected, his phone exploded in a cacophony of incoming messages. The device shook in his trembling hands. He turned off the sound again and scrolled through the phone menu with blurry vision, and dialed Sophia’s number. 

After only two rings she picked up. 

“Arthur?! Is this you?”  

Her name was stuck on his lips and tears rolled down his cheek. 

“Arthur, talk to me! You’re alive?” 

He struggled to find his voice. “Yes,” he croaked and cleared his throat. “Yes, I’m here.” 

Hearing Sophia calmed him somewhat. Though it was early in the morning, she would already be up and about, styling herself for the day. She was always so confident. She knew so clearly who she was. He instantly recalled the scent of her hairspray and the sound of her humming as she perfected her curls. He remembered their colored towels in their bathroom and suddenly longed for home. 

“Oh my God! What happened? Where are you?” Her voice trembled. 

Arthur imagined what she looked like right now. He found it strangely difficult to recall, which surprised him. He had expected her to be angry. She didn’t sound angry at all. That surprised him too. He rubbed his stinging eyes. “I’ve missed you.” 

“What happened to you?” 

“I left, Sophia. I left London.” 

“When are you coming back?” 

“I’m not… I don’t know.” Going back to London, where there was no monster. No dragon. No Merlin. Was that place even real? When he thought about Merlin, he felt his panic return. Had he survived the evening? He was taken aback at how attached he felt to someone else already. Of course, Sophia couldn’t know about that. Arthur shook his head, despite knowing that she couldn’t see him. “I don’t know,” he said again. 

“When you didn’t call back, I thought you were sick. But your office didn’t know where you were, and your doctor hadn’t seen you either. Uther is beside himself. They’ve lost another case. He’s about to fire you, you know?” 

Arthur swallowed. “That’s fine with me,” he heard himself say. There was no way he could return to that place. Even when they had such financial troubles and could really use Arthur’s strong attitude that won them many cases. The running cases could be handed over to one of the junior lawyers. George could find himself a new job. Above all, Arthur never wanted to see Uther again. 

“You have got to be joking, Arthur. Listen to yourself! You worked so hard for this!” 

That much was true. He had worked incredibly hard for it. To fit exactly into the picture Uther had constructed for him, brick for brick, until he was an immovable wall of institutionalised admission. “Yes, and now I’m deciding to stop.” 

“You can’t. The company needs you. I need you here,” she said, and added softly, “I missed you.” 

He smiled. He believed her. “Only because you thought I might be dead.” 

“It’s not like you to ignore a text or voicemail. I know you.” 

“How can you know me when I don’t even know who I am?” He balled his fist on his knee and held back his tears. He was bigger than this, he could hold himself together. He _had_ to. 

“Where are you, Arthur? Tell me. I will send for a taxi to take you home.” 

“I am home,” he said. “It’s not much, but this is where I am now. I’m not coming back to London, to you.” 

“You don’t mean that,” she said. “Don’t be stupid, Arthur. Give me your address.” 

As if anything would ever change. He sighed and looked up at the ceiling. “Goodbye, Sophia.” 

“Wait Ar—” 

He disassembled the phone again and stuffed it under a pillow. 

He stalked to the kitchen to make himself breakfast. Sophia’s control over him wasn’t strong enough to make him return to London. And if that meant he was staying, then he would have to get a grip on himself. Once he had some food in him he felt his strength return. He could do this, he could get a hold of this. 

He spend the next two hours exercising brutally, ignoring the bruise on his ribs and breaking through his anxiety by exceeding his limits, pushing for more. He used his machines in the upstairs room, pumping his muscles for all they had to give. 

When he was done, he took a long shower and dressed himself properly in a tight bright red v-neck T-shirt and dark jeans. He went through his routines to try and ground himself. When he looked into the mirror again he felt better. Muscles worn and back of his head aching. But peaceful. Definitely better than before. Now to find a way to keep his mind from shooting off in a panic. He’d had enough to deal with the past few weeks. 

He brought Merlin’s Christmas sweater downstairs. He wasn’t certain yet what to do with it. He might have to give it back. He folded it and placed it on a small table in the living room, so that he could at least remember his night at Merlin’s house fondly. Anything to keep his mind off the past day’s events. 

He cleaned out the hearth, scrubbing away any remaining old ashes. Then he replaced the broken light bulbs, including the one in the basement. Following that, he opened the last of the moving boxes, stowing away some more books he brought, as well as his photo albums. He stored them carefully, piling them flat, one on top of the other. 

The last one was a dark blue plastic album with thick white pages, alternated with thin white sheets of non-sticking paper. He held it in his hands and bit his lip. This one had photos of his very first days. Then something clicked. Perhaps he could find something in here. 

He found himself taking all the photo albums out and littering them across the couch. He needed to find out more about his past. He needed to find photos of his mother before Arthur’s birth, and of Seren Wen. He might be able to see what it looked like, if there was anything he could learn about his past. About Ygraine. 

He put the albums in sequence. Some of the albums were of Arthur when he was a baby, but to his disappointment there were none of the time before that. Then several years were skipped and in the following albums he suddenly appeared older. There were no photos of the time in between. There were a few photographs of his father and mother looking happy together. 

She had died before he was four months old and he had frequently looked at these photos when he was a child in secret, at times when Uther was away from the house. He had always wondered at the beautiful woman smiling to the camera and imagined what she must have been like. He wished he knew her voice. 

Now he studied the photos in a different light. The rooms that they occupied looked like some of the rooms in the house. In fact, he had pointed out one of the walls that needed fixing to Gwaine not long ago. He flipped through the album. More and more he came to realise that his earliest photos were taken at Seren Wen. But he was born in _Windsor_ , his father had always said so. His mind had a hard time disentangling from what he had always known to be true. 

The photographs where he was a few years old were certainly from their house in Windsor, and he recalled some of the happenings, such as birthday parties and school plays shown on the photographs. But the oldest ones were of Seren Wen. It was unmistakeable. 

Merlin was right. He was born here. His father had lied to him about this as well. It made his stomach roil. He closed the book and decided he wasn’t so interested in the photographs anymore. But he had to tell Merlin. 

He held the album in his hands and turned to the hall right as the doorbell went. He sped to the door, hoping that it was Merlin. Hoping that somehow Merlin was alright. Hoping that… 

He opened the door to Gwaine, who was carrying a heavy bag over his shoulder and holding onto the handle of a large electrical device. 

“Gwaine… what…?” 

Gwaine sighed. “You had a job for me. I’m here to do it.” 

Arthur felt a cold sweat gather at his back. His body was ready to fight, fist curling, turning the knuckles white. But then he relaxed, and his shoulders slumped. He was supposed to be searching for who he was, and this wasn’t him. He licked his lips and said, “I’m so sorry for what happened to Eira.” 

Gwaine lowered his head, his long tresses covering the expression on his face. He swished his hair back and said, “Thank you. Lance says she’s going to make it.” 

Arthur’s eyes widened. “She… she survived?” 

“Yeah…” 

“How? How is that even possible?” 

Gwaine shrugged and flexed his fingers around the narrow handle of the heavy machine. He gave Arthur a level stare and didn’t say a word. 

Arthur gripped the door. “You’re still going to try that with me? I saw that… that _thing_ that attacked her. That monster!” Saying it felt absurd. These weren’t his words. It was impossible. There were no things as monsters, and there were certainly no dragons. But some of the villagers _knew_. He recalled seeing the curtain closing, shutting out a daylight murder. 

“I can’t… talk about it,” Gwaine said. 

“You all know that strange things happen in this town. And now that there’s actually been something to see, you’re going to deny it?” 

“Are you going to let me in or what?” 

“I haven’t decided yet,” Arthur said. “Maybe you want to wait outside, cool your thoughts a bit. See if you’re ready to change your mind.” 

Gwaine spat on the ground. “Oh, come off it.” 

Arthur gripped the side of the door until his knuckles turned white. “What about Merlin?” 

Gwaine narrowed his eyes. “What about him?” 

“Is he alright? Did he…?” 

“He’s fine.” 

Arthur’s insides did a summersault and his mouth felt dry. “Good. That’s good.” 

“No thanks to you.” 

“I didn’t do anything to him!” 

Gwaine avoided his gaze and asked sarcastically, “Did your walls need fixing?” 

Arthur stepped back and held the door open to him. “Yes, they do.” 

After Gwaine entered and passed the living room, his eyes fell on the sweater. He stared at it for several long moments before giving Arthur a brief glare and proceeded to the stairs. “I’ll be working upstairs. Can I use the bathroom?” 

Arthur nodded absentmindedly and followed him up the stairs. 

Gwaine eyed the album in Arthur’s arms. “What’s that?” 

Arthur held it to his chest. “Uh… photographic evidence.” 

Gwaine eyed him curiously. “Of the beast? No one will believe you.” He turned into the empty room, which held little more than some chairs and an old cabinet, and he scanned the walls and the ceiling. 

“No, not of that,” Arthur replied and followed him. “And thank you for confirming that there was, in fact, a beast.” 

“I did no such thing!” Gwaine protested. 

Arthur whirled on him. “So Lance is stitching up Eira’s run in with what? A murderous door? This is a bit more than a black eye. You’ve been seen arguing and physically fighting on the street. It’s known that she abuses you.” 

“Eira _loves_ me!” Gwaine shouted, dropping his tool bag roughly onto the floor. 

Arthur had had enough of hypocrisy. “I know _exactly_ what happened. But I also know _exactly_ what it looks like. Which version should I tell people when they ask me?” 

Gwaine approached him, fists balled. 

“So, you’re not going to hit your wife back but you’ll hit me instead?” Arthur asked, stepping forward to show he wasn’t afraid, not this time, not when he could see Gwaine coming. 

“I’m protecting… someone,” Gwaine hissed. 

“Someone? Someone who has something to do with that beast?” 

Gwaine’s eyebrow twitched and he shook his head. “Listen, I don’t know a great deal, alright? You haven’t seen anything yet.” 

The next question caught in Arthur’s throat as the doorbell went. He put the photo album down on the nearest chair and hurried down the stairs. 

Like a hopeful puppy, drawn to the excitement of the front door, his thoughts went straight to Merlin. Gwaine had said that Merlin was alright. He _wanted_ it to be Merlin, despite everything, despite his last words to him. 

He swung the door open and stared out at two women. One of them was PC Smith, armed with her polkadot backpack, and wrapped in her thick, blue jacket and fluffy winter hat. Next to her stood a dashing woman with raven-black hair and light green eyes. She eyed him and he straightened himself against her scrutiny. 

“Mister Pendragon,” PC Smith said. “May I introduce you to Mayor Lefay?” 

Her hair was immaculate to the last lock. She wore a deep red coat, offset by a thick white silk scarf that barely stood off against her fair skin. Her green eyes bore into his. Fortunately, Arthur had the disposition to not be easily intimidated by people, because Mayor Lefay exactly that sort of air about her. 

Besides, his memories of the day before were still right there, crawling under his skin and they had been a great deal more frightening. He knew he would have to tread lightly and not to burst out into panic again. 

“It’s very nice to meet you,” Arthur said, leaning against his doorpost to make himself wider. 

“It certainly is,” the mayor answered. 

“Is there any reason you are visiting?” Arthur asked, directing his question at PC Smith. 

“Actually, yes there is,” PC Smith said. “We’re here to question you about yesterday’s incident.” 

“Oh,” Arthur said, “Well why didn’t you say so? Come on in, Miss Smith, Miss Lefay,” he offered politely. 

When he held the door open Mayor Lefay pushed through before Gwen, purring, “Please, call me Morgana,” and passed straight towards the living room, where she seated herself in the largest armchair in the room. 

“Make yourself at home, Morgana, Gwen,” Arthur said with a smile. 

“Please,” Gwen said with both eyebrows raised. “Call me PC Smith.” 

Arthur felt his smile turn thin. 

“You have a visitor?” Morgana inquired. 

Upstairs, a radio was playing and off-tune whistling was heard. Arthur wondered if that would impair their conversation in any way. “Yes, I’m having a room fixed up. Coffee?” 

“Oh, no thank you. We’ll just ask you some very important questions,” Morgana said. 

“Suit yourself,” Arthur answered pleasantly and seated himself. He was nervous though he couldn’t tell why, so he stretch an arm out over the couch and purposefully showed himself to be relaxed. 

“First of all,” PC Smith said. “We apologise for taking up your time like this. We have had a report about an attack in Raven Street.” 

“Yes?” Arthur responded coolly. 

“What can you tell us about what happened?” PC Smith asked. 

“Did you see the attack?” Morgana threw in. 

“I do not believe that I was witness to any actual attack. What I saw was that Eira was heavily wounded.” 

PC Smith started writing the answer down and Morgana pursed her lips. 

“And what was it that you saw?” PC Smith asked. 

“Describe it to us in detail,” Morgana added sweetly. 

So it was to be like that, was it? “Some animal, I think,” he said. Arthur was keenly aware of Morgana Lefay’s sharp gaze on him. He decided that he didn’t like, or trust her. The way she had said ‘very important questions’ irked him. It felt as if the questions were important to her, but not for Eira, or for Arthur. He didn’t bargain with people like that. 

“That’s not very detailed,” Morgana said after a moment. 

“Well,” Arthur said, looking down at his knees. “It had dark fur and long claws. Maybe a puma?” He carefully watched the glint of laughter in her eyes. She was mocking him. “I don’t know if there are any pumas in the countryside. I’m from the city myself,” he added. “London, in fact.” 

Morgana smiled at him. It did not reach her eyes. 

“And what did the animal do?” PC Smith asked. “Did it attack you as well?” 

“Yes, I fell down and it charged past me.”

“Was there anyone else there?” PC Smith asked, going down her list of questions. 

Arthur shook his head. “No, it was just me. I was too shocked to do anything.” He couldn’t rightly know whether Merlin had seen the attack or not. Besides, he wasn’t about to give that information to them. It didn’t feel right. He had seen how much Merlin, Gaius, and even Gwaine had protected secrets, to the point of pissing everyone off. Despite being pissed off himself, he felt privileged to have figured out as much as he had already. 

Morgana leaned forward. “And how come a man such as yourself couldn’t act?”

Arthur worked his jaw. If she weren’t so rude, he might share his findings with her and the police. Together they might act against it. But it didn’t sit well with him. “Because I thought I just saw someone die. What can you tell me about her? Did she make it through?” 

“Yes!” PC Smith said animated. Her smile was genuine. “She is heavily wounded, I mean, but she’ll be okay, given some time. Physically at least.” 

Arthur smiled at her. “I’m relieved to hear it. I can’t even imagine how she must be feeling.”

“Are you certain that no one saw you there?” Morgana asked again. 

He bit his lip and looked down. “Well, there must have been someone.” He noticed that the whistling had stopped some time ago already. “You must think I’m losing my mind…” 

“Go on?” Morgana said. 

“Well, you see, I fainted. And I woke up in my bed. I thought perhaps that was you who brought me home, PC Smith?”  

PC Smith looked down and blushed, folding a hand around her middle. “Well, no, that was not me.” 

“ _Not_ you? I could hardly imagine anyone else equipped to tackle a puma!” he laughed and idly played with his watch. 

“I’m not sure I find this so amusing,” Morgana said. 

“No, you’re right, this has some serious legal and financial implications. Not for me, but for the victim. How could a puma get loose so close to this village? You will have to be looking at local building and terrain damages. Not to mention Eira’s medical costs. I’m sort of an expert in the legal field, so I could be of assistance.” 

Morgana pursed her lips. “I’m afraid I have to decline your offer, Mr Pendragon. We have our own legal advisers. Meanwhile, you will keep this to yourself, won’t you?” 

PC Smith looked sideways at Morgana. Arthur took it as a confirmation of what he suspected. There were no such advisers, and they didn’t want information to spread. And they did most certainly didn’t want any attention drawn to this particular event. 

“Well, surely you will put flyers up, warning the villagers of a puma? We could—” 

“No need to interfere, we have it perfectly under control. Thank you for taking the time to answer our questions. Come, Gwen. We’ll be on our way.” 

Gwen quickly packed up and followed Morgana, who left in a swirl of rich fabrics and a click of heeled boots. Arthur showed them out with every courtesy. 

After closing the door, he turned around and saw Gwaine waiting halfway down the stairs. The radio upstairs was still playing cheerful holiday music. 

Gwaine narrowed his eyes. “You didn’t tell them anything.”  

“That’s right,” Arthur said. He studied Gwaine’s reaction carefully: the way his eyes shifted to the side and how he was struggling with several questions at the same time. 

“Why?” was apparently the level of brilliance that Gwaine could muster. 

Arthur put his hands akimbo confidently. “Because you are all taking great pains to keep something hidden. The mayor and the police know _something_ but they are not being forthcoming. And I know that it’s got nothing to do with UFOs. So, even if none of you trust me, that doesn’t mean I would break confidentiality. It’s rather a big thing to me, not just in my line of work.”

Gwaine continued his way down and stood in front of him and smiled. “Thank you.” 

When Gwaine smiled it was as if all the weight of the past days lifted, and it was infectious enough that Arthur smiled with him. Gwaine’s gesture surprised him. Perhaps his judgment of the man had been wrong. “I haven’t actually done anything,” Arthur replied. 

Gwaine scratched the back of his neck. “You made it stop. You’re the reason Eira is alive. I owe you a debt of gratitude.” 

Arthur took a deep breath and held up his hands. “The truth is I froze. And there was something else.” 

“Something else?” 

Arthur shook his head. “Never mind. I don’t really know…” Whatever that was, a dragon or something like it, it had fought the beast. “It protected Eira.” 

Gwaine bit his lip. “Did you see it?” 

“No,” he lied. The images were a jumble in his head, and he didn’t want to relive that moment. He searched his memory to recall what it looked like and saw only blue scales. And golden eyes. He idly ran a hand through his hair in an attempt to hide the crashing of emotions that came rushing back to him. The creatures had roared and it felt like something inside him had been set alight. “There might be other witnesses though. I saw someone close their curtain across the street. People know what’s going on around here, don’t they?” 

Gwaine shrugged. 

“Fine, I’ll find the address across the street of the attack myself.” 

“At Raven Street?” 

Arthur nodded. “You know who lives there?” 

“Yes,” Gwaine said. “That’s Mordred’s house. He lives alone now. His father passed away some years ago.” 

Arthur narrowed his eyes. He remembered Mordred saying something about city people never believing. He definitely knew more. “Another strange incident?” 

Gwaine nodded. “I don’t know anything about that. I’m afraid I’ve already said too much.” 

“You’re afraid of something or someone?” 

“It’s just… they don’t share anything with people not from here.” 

Arthur put a hand on Gwaine’s shoulder. “Rest assured then. I am from here.” 


	13. The Dots

Mordred walked up the grand stairs to the hall he usually found her in. The hall was beautiful, walls covered with various paintings that depicted generations of heritage. He had always wanted to be part of that. Even being here was a dream to him. He knew his chances were slim, but here he was, ready to see her. 

When he passed through the hall, all the way at the back, she sat in a chair by the window, black laptop on her lap barely standing out from the dress she wore. Her dark hair was perfectly curled and her make-up spotless. 

“You have asked to see me?” he asked, knees weak and skin on his neck tingling. 

Her focus was fully on her work, lacquered nails typing away leisurely. The longer the silence spread across the room, the more insecure Mordred felt about pushing again, announcing himself to her. She was everything to him, and she didn’t even know it. 

“Sit down,” came the command at last. 

Mordred took the seat across from her and looked at her legs. She was wearing a black dress that cut off just above her knees, which were held together to keep the laptop secure. Below, slender calves curled down, and her ankles were crossed by straps from her stiletto heels. His palms were sweaty. 

“Freya isn’t very happy with you,” the woman said. 

He swallowed and kept his back straight. He knew that she wouldn’t be happy with him, but at least she would see him. He had one shot at last. 

“I had to take a chance.”

“Eira survived,” she said. “We don’t give second chances. You know this.” 

“I know that I failed last time. But this time, I have something of value for you. You can use it to get what you want. And that will be good for all of us, right?” 

At last she looked up. Her green eyes regarded him sharply. “Go on.” 

Mordred felt his heart trying to escape from his chest. “Freya didn’t get the job done. It was Emrys again. I still don’t know where he came from or who it is. But… there was someone else there too.” 

“You’re talking about Arthur Pendragon?” she said. 

He stared at her, his eyes clinging to her lips. He realised what he was doing and hastily lowered his gaze again. She still wouldn’t accept his devotion to the cause, or to her. “Yes. And he saw everything.” 

“You’re wrong, he didn’t see a thing.” 

“I know he did. I watched the attack happen! He saw everything, until he got knocked out.” 

“Then perhaps he doesn’t remember it. He was calm and collected, not the sort of thing you’d expect.” 

“I don’t trust him,” Mordred growled. “We have to put him under pressure.” 

She leaned back in her chair and put her laptop aside, intrigued. She crossed her legs in a slow move that had Mordred’s insides do a summersault. At last, she nodded and said, “If he is not with our cause, then he is a risk. How will you put him under pressure?” 

He stood up, took in a deep breath and made himself stand tall, wildly elated at her show of faith in him. “On Friday there is a ceremony at the church. Arthur has said he will be there. Afterwards, friends and family are invited for the reception. Arthur is not among the guests, so he will be travelling home by himself. I will take him in.” 

One eyebrow was raised. “You will team up with Freya—” 

“But I—”

“He’s just a regular person, Mordred, but he’s not stupid, and he is on his guard already.” 

He frowned at her. Freya was given another chance. That was a good thing, he owed her anyway. But he also wanted to impress, without Freya’s help. “I can handle him.” 

She shook her head and stood up, approaching him. “Can you handle killing him?” 

“For the cause and for you, I would do anything it takes.” He steadied his stance. 

She lifted up her hand. Mordred resisted flinching, and stared at nothing but her eyes as her fingers went through his hair. He felt the heat rise to his cheeks and to his ears. He shouldn’t be enjoying this, she shouldn’t be doing this. But it was _so_ good. She was beautiful up close. 

“Yes, I believe you will. Freya will come with you, and that’s final. Make sure that none of this gets out, do you understand? We keep everything under wraps. Always” 

Mordred nodded, fully absorbed. “Yes, Morgana.” _I love you._

  
  


*** 

While Gwaine worked upstairs, whistling off-tune to crappy pop music on the radio, Arthur settled himself on his island of couches and wrote down everything anyone had ever said about the cases. 

He told himself he did it for Eira, but he knew he was doing it for himself in order to get the cloud out of his mind. If he was anything, he was someone who connected the dots. He felt confident about that at least. It was time to get everything down on paper.  

There was no other way to do it but to use his phone as a mobile hotspot. He switched on the device, turned off the sound and, ignored all the messages that flooded in. He connected his laptop to the weak internet signal, set up the printer, and set to work building the case as he was used to doing. 

He started by listing down the victims he had heard about. Valiant, the seaman who drowned after spotting snakes in the sea and strange weather up north. He checked local fishing routes and marked down the areas where the boats normally went out to fish. He marked out Percy’s land and possible rivers and streams where he might have drowned. 

Then he focused on Edwin Muirden, the hermit who was incinerated in his hut, shortly after coming to a life-changing discovery. He found where the hut was and marked it out on the map. It was nowhere near Valiant’s home, the local harbour or Percy’s farm. 

And Helen, the lady known in the village for dressing too young for her age and was crushed by her ceiling lamp. He gathered that she was already in her early sixties and had been a singer in her day. According to newspaper records, she died instantly. Arthur considered that while the other two deaths seemed horrific, this one could actually be an accident. 

He used tacks and attached the notices on the old, ugly leather couch, sat back, and looked at the information in front of him. He printed out several columns he found online, all of which were written by Merlin Ambrose. He only found two articles related to the strange cases, one detailing Edwin’s death and one on Helen’s story. But there was no article about Valiant. All Merlin’s other articles were about village events, and the strange near-accidents that Gwaine had told Arthur about earlier. The only detail he could find was that Valiant died twenty-three years ago. That was a long time to span motive, which made it even harder to connect them. 

He stared at the new collected information and tried to factor in a common denominator. What was it that connected these incidents? The four deaths were years apart, but not at fixed intervals. Their types of deaths were completely unrelated as well. Additionally, the time of year differed as well. While Edwin and Valiant died in early summer, Helen’s death had been in spring, and Cedric died in winter. He pinned the additional information onto the old leather sofa as well and leaned back on his own couch, trying to find something related, anything at all. He couldn’t see it. 

He printed out the map of Camlot several times and drew patterns of the places they lived, the places they died. He made charts of birthplace, income levels and education level. Nothing stood out. But he wasn’t deterred. There had to be something. 

Perhaps he needed Merlin’s papers. His research would be far more extensive. But they were in his house, and Merlin still wasn’t home. He stretched his search to include what he knew about Cedric, the tax man, who went into jewelry and died with a blow to his head. He included Tom’s attack and early retirement, but he couldn’t find Tom’s article online anywhere. 

Factoring in the survivors of the strange near-accidents, he thought that they might be related to the other events. Could these people have died as well? And why didn’t they? For years, everything in Camlot had seemed quiet. Cedric was the first curious death event in a long, long time. And a murder at that. 

Then he included the townsfolk who had all told him something out of the ordinary. He added a note about Julius, the drunk who claimed that ‘no one could save us now’. Julius might know something. Then he added a note about Mordred, who knew more than he let on, in the way called Arthur out for his closed mind. He added a notice underneath with two labels, one ‘smoker’ and one ‘Merlin’. Mordred was a smoker, so he must have talked to Cedric outside the pub on occasion. Also, Mordred didn’t like Merlin, although he had no idea as to its relevance. 

He tried to factor in the attack of the beast and and stared at the results pinned to the brown leather. Arthur had assumed that the town had some idea, based on what Gaius and Merlin knew, and what Cedric and his killer were after. Also Gwaine knew that whatever it was, it had nothing to do with UFOs. He wrote a separate note with all their names, and included Mordred’s. They all knew something. He added Eira’s name with a question mark behind it. 

Why on earth was Eira attacked? 

She did not match any of the previous situations with more than one overlap. Her attack happened outside, but not at a place anyone would expect to find her, which matched Valiant, but not Edwin or Helen. Perhaps there was something special at that abandoned farm? Eira was in her early thirties like Edwin, but not like Helen or Valiant. And she didn’t shy away from society, which matched Helen and Valiant, but not Edwin. Nothing was strong enough to match up. 

And then there was the mode of her attack. It was some kind of beast, he was certain of that now. The fact that Gwaine hadn’t denied it was important. 

That meant Dr Dulac knew, and that meant PC Smith knew about it too. And that meant that Mayor Lefay must know or have some clue as to the nature of what attacked her. That was why she was so adamant to hear Arthur’s description. Had he done the right thing by denying them the information they needed? He couldn’t get Morgana’s piercing eyes out of his head. If he needed to, he could always call the police later and tell them more. 

Besides, Arthur thought, the beast existed outside the laws of nature. He struggled to grasp at the concept of its very existence. How could he ever explain that? People would think he was a nutter. It was like a waking nightmare. Except Arthur now knew that it wasn’t just a nightmare, it was very real.

He stared at Eira’s name, playing with the marker in his hand, turning it over and over. There was something he was missing. He was certain about it. Some fact that he should know about her. And then he had it. With thick letters he wrote under her name: AFFAIR.

She’d had an affair. Recently. Gwaine had said they were working on it. But was that really the case? Was Gwaine innocent from all of this? He wanted to believe it, but he didn’t know Gwaine’s alibi for the time frame of Cedric’s murder. But Gwaine was certainly not some beast. 

Arthur considered the possibility that he had something to do with it. When he had defended Merlin, he had mentioned reporting Arthur to the police ‘or worse’. Was there something worse? Something like a monster? He had also stopped Merlin from confiding in Arthur, because somehow Gwaine felt that Arthur didn’t deserve it. He wondered about that. Not only that, but Gwaine had had an affair as well. Or, he had fallen in love with someone, while married to Eira. He had said that much in Arthur’s kitchen several days ago. 

He stared at the names spread out in front of him and rubbed his chin. Perhaps the affair had been with Mayor Lefay. Gwaine’s van had been parked there after all, though that might just be a paint job. If their affair was still going, it might make sense that Morgana would want to find out what Arthur knew about Eira’s death, so that she would not be implicated. Perhaps she and Gwaine had planned this. But what did that have to do with Cedric? 

He considered Morgana’s point of view in this. She didn’t go to the grocery store, but had them picked up for her. She would have people for that. Arthur wrote down that he would have to find a list of her employees. He seriously doubted that Gwen would give that to him, unless he came up with a solid clue. 

On the space that was available on the armrests, Arthur pinned a list of notable deceased people, whose death seemed suspicious to him. Merlin’s parents, Mordred’s father. He would need to ask both of them what had happened at some point. While it wasn’t unheard of, it was certainly worth noting down. What if their deaths were connected to all the strange occurrences and provided the missing link?

He made an island of people he thought were unconnected, which included Gwen, Elyan, Lance, Morgana, Percy, and Vivian. 

He stared at Morgana’s name. Whether Gwaine had visited Morgana simply for a paint job or for something else, it was important to mark down. So, Morgana got a separate sheet of paper all to herself with a single question mark beneath it, pinned on the couch, right next to the deceased parents. 

His eyes stared at the words ‘parents’. And then he knew what was missing. The thought hit him with a force that knocked his breath away. He added Ygraine to the list. The single question mark behind her name a testimony of how much he really knew about her in life and in death. He buried his head in his hands. 

“Arthur?” 

Arthur straightened with a jerk and turned to look over his shoulder to Gwaine. “Don’t you have the decency to at least announce your arrival?” 

“I’m wearing steel-toed boots. If you can’t hear me tap dancing down the stairs like Ginger fucking Rogers, that’s not my problem.” The retort lacked any real heat. 

Arthur nodded and tried to shake off his unease. “Then what is the problem?” 

“I think you had better come and see this for yourself.” 

Upstairs, Arthur discovered that the whole room had been stripped clean from several layers of hideous wallpaper. It smelled like wet glue and the ground was covered in small strips. The original painted walls were now visible, displaying a creamy pastel yellow, perforated in places where shelves or a painting had been attached. 

On one of the outer walls was a mural of several painted figures. Three of them stretched out in a circular pattern, with their heads pointed to the middle. The three figures looked like elongated snakes, each of their bodies curling left around themselves. The white one had blue eyes, the red one had green eyes and the blue one had golden eyes. 

“What is this?” Arthur demanded. He gave Gwaine a hard stare.

“Well, I don’t know. It was like that underneath.” Gwaine gestured at the figures and shrugged. 

Gwaine had no idea, Arthur concluded. He didn’t know about the dragon. 

Arthur rubbed the back of his neck and turned back to the mural of the three dragons. The golden eyes of the blue dragon seemed to glow. Goosebumps prickled along his skin when he remembered looking into those large, golden eyes right before he passed out. Details on the painting revealed spikes along its spine. Arthur remembered them. The red and white dragons had wings, but the blue one did not. It looked like a long snake with sturdy, short arms and legs. Arthur swallowed, it was exactly as he remembered it. 

He had seen that figure before. The three snaking bodies. He couldn’t remember where, but it looked exactly like that. Except the painting was brightly colored and several small letters were written along the curls of their bodies. 

“What are these markings?” Arthur asked. 

“They look like old writing. Something Welsh, I guess.” 

Arthur leaned close to “Can you read it?” 

“I don’t know all the letters, and certainly not when they’re calligraphed like that,” Gwaine said. “You should ask someone from Camlot to read it for you. Or you could Google it.” 

“Yeah,” Arthur said and took a photo with his phone. “I will.” 

“What do you want me to do with the room?” 

Arthur looked at the picture of his phone and bit his lip. “Leave it. I think I like it like this.” 


	14. Translations

An hour later Arthur stood in the kitchen, spent. Gwaine had left to see Eira and he was alone in the house apart from Kilgharrah, who had decided to join him for the evening. Considering the torrential rain outside, Arthur could hardly blame the poor fluffy creature. 

He sipped a beer while finishing his last microwaveable meal. That meant he would have to visit the Asda again soon. The grocery store had shown no sign of opening yet. He supposed that PC Smith still considered it a potential target. The second thief might presume that the object was still there after all. 

Besides, Arthur didn’t feel like heading to the pub, because he might run into Mordred there. He didn’t want to run into Mordred. Not yet. Not when Eira was still in critical condition and Arthur had a severely itching fist with Mordred’s name on it. 

His eyes strayed to the window, to his neighbor’s house from time to time. All the lights were out and there was no car. He would have to stop bothering at some point, he told himself. For the tenth time that day. He would have to work on the power of conviction of his inner voice. 

After dinner, Arthur sat down on his luxurious couch with his bottle of beer next to him. He stared at the old tattered leather couch across him, and at the collection of clues and hints, none of which matched up. He simply hadn’t found the key to unlock the riddle yet. There was something though. There had to be. There was only one person who could help him determine if he had all current facts correctly. But that person wasn’t around. 

To keep his mind from wandering to Merlin again, he scrolled through the old Welsh alphabet on the small screen of his phone, comparing it to the photo of the mural. The cat came to sit on his lap while he studied, and purred happily. Slowly the letters started forming coherent syllables, even though the word itself didn’t seem to make any sense. The second word, though, he had heard about that before. 

“Well well,” Arthur said, petting the furry animal. 

The doorbell rang the third time that day. 

Arthur spent a moment wondering how he would remove the cat from his lap without offending it. He decided that there was nothing that could reasonably be done to avoid that outcome, and pushed Kilgharrah off as gently as he could. He opened the door to the last person he expected. 

Merlin stood there, alive and well, with a large plastic net full of logs and an apologetic look in his eyes. He had two scrapes on his brow and a visible bruise on his temple. He held the logs in front of him like a shield. 

“Hi,” Merlin said. 

Arthur didn’t reply, too stunned at how strongly his longing for Merlin welled up again. No matter how much he had tried to push away his attraction for him, it was there again, raw and hot like when they first kissed. 

“I’ve brought you some, uh… for your fireplace.” 

Arthur felt his lip curl. “Wood. You brought me wood?” 

“Yes,” Merlin swallowed and looked down, lips pursing in thought. “You said you needed to warm your house.” 

“You can’t stop taking care of me, can you?” He put a hand in his hip, pretending hard not to be overwhelmed with relief that Merlin was alive. 

Merlin licked his lips and buried his chin into his bright red scarf. “I know that the other day… you said…” 

Arthur’s mind raced with both things to say and to do to Merlin, throat turning dry and thoughts muddled just from thinking about it. “I’m glad,” he settled on at last, “Glad that you got away.” 

Merlin frowned at him. “What?” 

“When the attack happened,” Arthur said. “It was terrifying. Eira could have died. I’m glad you ran away.” 

Merlin glared and looked at Arthur through his lashes. “I went to get help.” 

Arthur’s palms were sweaty and he tried to convince himself that it had nothing to do with the intensity of Merlin’s gaze on him. “Who did that to you?” He pointed at Merlin’s forehead. 

“I’m fine, really,” Merlin said evasively. 

Arthur rolled his eyes. “Are you the one who brought me home?”

Clutching the wood to himself, Merlin bit his lip and nodded. 

Without moving, Arthur stared at him for a long time. Precious warmth was escaping from his home. He made no attempt to reach for the peace offering yet. He wasn’t certain if he should. He still couldn’t trust Merlin and it stood in the way of everything he wanted. So he changed his tactic. 

“I’ve almost got it figured out, you know,” he said. 

A dimple formed in Merlin’s chin as he struggled with that piece of information. 

“I know you’re hiding something,” Arthur said with a confident smile. “And I know where to start.” 

Merlin huffed, and said, “I don’t think so,” trying to sound aloof, but Arthur as a trained lawyer saw the strain in his movements. 

“You’re going to play it like that?” Arthur asked, leaning against the door post. “Tell me one thing. Just one.” 

Blue eyes stared fiercely into his, a look of raw determination. 

Arthur acknowledged the look with a raise of his eyebrows and took a step forward. “Why is your cat named after a dragon?” 


	15. Peeling Off

Merlin’s eyes went wide and round. The wood blocks fell onto the path with a thick thud as Merlin’s grip on them was lost. Arthur wasn’t even entirely certain what he meant with that question. He simply knew that the green-eyed red dragon painted on the wall upstairs had the word ‘Kilgharrah’ written neatly beneath it in old Welsh text. 

But the result was even better than he expected. He took another step towards Merlin, imposing on his personal space. “You know _exactly_ what I mean.” 

“Where did you find that name?” 

So they were names after all. Even that was something Arthur hadn’t been certain about until now. “Oh no, I’m not going to tell you a thing until you come clean, Merlin. So far, I have two names: Aithusa and Kilgharrah. There is a third name I’m still working on. After that, my investigation continues. You can either be a part of it, or continue to pretend not to know anything.” 

“Emrys,” Merlin said, whispering the word. 

“Excuse me?” 

Merlin rolled his shoulder. “The third name you are looking for is Emrys.” 

Arthur took his phone out of his back pocket and held it up. “Let me see.” He zoomed in with two fingers to the blue dragon’s swirling body. He found the small calligraphy written in neat, tiny letters. The word was short and he recognised it instantly as ‘Emrys’. There was no mistaking it. “Huh.” 

“Now do you trust me?” 

“Not by a long shot. But I will show you something. You’d better come inside.” 

  
  


*** 

Merlin stared at the mural for a long time as if in trance. He rocked back and forth on his thick woolen socks. He was wearing a blue hoodie and light, faded jeans, and had his arms crossed in front of him, fingers softly stroking his lips, deep in thought. 

His attention was fixed on one spot. After a while, Arthur decided that the direction of his eyes were focused on the white dragon, Aithusa. That was interesting, considering the fact that only the blue dragon held any bearings to reality for Arthur. Perhaps all three of them were real?

After nearly fifteen minutes, Arthur ran out of patience, got up from the small chair in the empty room and opened the photo album that he had brought up earlier that day. 

“You were right by the way.” He opened the album to show the rooms in Seren Wen. “I only found one photograph that partially shows the mural. Here. I think this was my baby room.” 

“I think perhaps your mother made it. She lived here many years before she met your father,” Merlin said. His fingers gently stroked past a photo. It was of Ygraine standing next to the dining table, arranging a large bouquet of flowers. 

“Perhaps she did,” Arthur said, staring at the photograph while Merlin turned the page. “Wait! Go back.” 

Merlin turned the page back and peered at the photograph of Ygraine at the dining table more closely. 

“Merlin, look! Flowers! I was right.” Arthur spun around and headed back down the stairs. He burst into the living room and turned on the light. Kilgharrah had made himself comfortable on Merlin’s holiday sweater and mewed in protest. 

“Right about what?” Merlin asked as he followed, photo album tucked under his arm. “What is this?” He gaped at the display of names and notes spread out over the old leather couch. “You did this?” 

“I need to see what I’m working on when I handle a case,” Arthur explained. “It’s the flowers, Merlin. Percy and I saw them while we were walking past their house!” 

“I’m lost. What are you talking about?” 

“Remember how I said that whoever Cedric was involved with was in danger? I was right. It was Eira. They were having an affair.” 

“Are you certain about this?” 

“Gwaine said himself that Eira had had an affair, and that it had ended. He said that they were working on their marriage. She had a large bouquet of flowers right next to the window. Remember how Vivian said that Cedric had started buying flowers? And Gaius said he was buying shaving cream. Merlin, I’ve been killing myself over why Eira would be a target. It’s because of Cedric.” 

Merlin bit his lip. “Eira and Cedric?” 

“Yes, it makes sense too. Gwaine said he had to travel for work a lot recently. And Cedric was suddenly employed by a multinational jewel trader, so he quit his job as a tax man and counted himself rich. It also means that Eira might have known something. That’s why that beast attacked her. Until it was stopped...” Any further words were stuck in his throat. 

“The beast was stopped?” Merlin asked carefully. 

Arthur shook his head. His mind simply didn’t want to make the concept real. It kept spitting out what he had see and casting it away as some awful, but harmless nightmare. But it wasn’t. He knew it wasn’t. Eira was most certainly hurt. “I, uh… That beast was quite something, but _this thing_ …” 

“What did you see, exactly?” It was the way Merlin spoke the words, slowly and carefully, that Arthur realised, for the first time, that Merlin was afraid. 

Arthur came to stand in front of him. “Something not from this world.” 

Merlin’s lips tried to form words. He stood trembling and his hands fidgeted with the cords of his blue hoodie. In the end he remained silent, eyes pleading at Arthur. 

“You want me to really say it?” Arthur asked him. 

“Yes?” Merlin begged, bottom lip trembling. 

It was hard to look at his anguish and uncertainty. Arthur wanted nothing more than to wrap him up in a blanket and keep him close. 

“A dragon. I saw Emrys. I’m certain.” The blue scales that had passed in front of him felt vivid. They were sleek and fluid like water, undulating with the flow of the dragon’s body. “Merlin, I think Emrys saved me. Me and Eira both.” He could hardly believe he was saying the words. 

Merlin nodded at him nervously. “Yes,” he said in a small voice. 

Arthur felt his heart thud loudly in his chest. “I’m not totally bonkers, then?” 

Merlin snickered, “Well, I wouldn’t know about tha—” 

Before Merlin could even finish talking, Arthur had cupped his face and kissed his words away. He kept his eyes closed and didn’t allow Merlin to move, holding him in place. Then he pulled back and leaned his forehead against Merlin’s. 

“What was that for?” Merlin asked hoarsely, color quickly rising to his cheeks. 

“For letting me know that what I saw was really there,” Arthur said, fixing Merlin’s collar back, and placing the two hoodie strings back down over his chest. “For finally telling me something true.”

“I was afraid.” 

“Why afraid?” 

“For what I’m not allowed to say. That you wouldn’t be interested in me anymore, once you knew the whole story,” Merlin said, tentatively placing his hands on Arthur’s shoulders in a loose embrace. 

Arthur felt a smile tug at the corner of his mouth and heat flushing his cheeks. “I’ve been thinking about you all day, actually.” 

“You have?” Merlin’s smile was goofy, and Arthur saw the uncertainty behind it. 

“There’s something about you, Merlin. I can’t quite put my finger on it,” Arthur said and wrapped his arms around him, pulling him close. Merlin melted against him and drew his arms tightly around Arthur’s shoulders. Cool fingers brushed over Arthur’s neck, making him shiver. Arthur let himself be enveloped, and whispered, “I’m also afraid.” 

“You? What for?” Merlin murmured against his ear. 

“Because… I like you, Merlin. But I’m a mess and…” _And I don’t want you to see that,_ he thought.

Merlin took a deep breath and pulled back just enough to stroke across Arthur’s cheeks with his lips. “I want to help. I will tell you anything I can. Just ask.” 

“How about,” Arthur said, disentangling himself and playing with the string on Merlin’s hoodie, “I’ll pour us some drinks, and you can tell me what you know about Camlot. Maybe start with my mother. I really want to know.” 

“Alright. I will try to explain, but I’m afraid you won’t believe it.” 

Arthur lifted an eyebrow. “Try me.” 

“Where’s my drink?” Merlin probed back. 

With some wine poured, curtains closed for the evening, and Kilgharrah quietly observing them, Merlin began. 

“I was born in a place about a day’s travel south. I wasn’t planned at all. My mother raised me alone, here in Camlot. She died a few years ago. Nothing bizarre. Heart failure. She told me everything about this place, and she told me about her neighbour Ygraine. They were friends for some time. Her death was a great shock to my mother. Ygraine was well-known in Camlot. As a teacher, she has influenced many of the younger people here in town.” 

“She was a teacher?” Arthur asked. He was just setting up a fire in the hearth with the blocks of wood Merlin had brought. 

Merlin sat upright on the couch and took a sip of wine. “You didn’t know. Ehm, I suppose I could have guessed that.” 

Arthur shook his head. “My father told me she didn’t work.” 

“He wouldn’t have known about her teachings,” Merlin said. “It wasn’t a regular topic, like maths or history.” 

Arthur ignited the fire in the hearth and sat back, enjoying the pleasant heat that came from the crackling flames. “Then what did she teach?” 

“She taught magic.” 

Arthur’s rational mind complained vehemently. He was a man of logic and analysis. A man of law, regulation and figures. And yet, the things he had witnessed beared no grounds on reality. So, they had to be… magic. “Okay? I don’t really know what that means.” 

“This village is at a natural hotspot for magic, and many with gifts come to live here. There are several kinds of magic. They sometimes interfere with each other.” 

Arthur sat down on the other end of the couch, pulling one leg up, facing Merlin. “I’m sorry, what part of this is natural?” 

Merlin turned to him and mirrored his pose. “All of it. It’s hidden, but it is as old as the dawn of culture and language. Only a handful of people know about its existence.” 

Arthur took a gulp of wine and shook his head. “You’re telling me that these deaths were magical? And that there is no culprit?” 

“That’s not exactly true. I believe that something happened to these people. It _could_ be magic.” 

Arthur looked at his wall of papers pinned to the couch on the other side. He stared at all the events he had laid out, and at the lists of names. He pushed up his sleeves and rubbes his chin. 

“You don’t believe me?” 

The wheels in Arthur’s head were turning. After several moments he turned to Merlin and said,  “The police know already. Gaius knows. Mordred knows. Gwaine knows, but not much. Julius thinks he knows, but doesn’t actually have a clue. Morgana definitely knows. Percy and Vivian are left out, so is Father Elyan, by necessity I assume.” Arthur turned to see Merlin staring at him wide eyed. “How am I doing so far?” 

Merlin gaped like a fish. “How did you figure all that out?” 

Arthur sat up more straight, heat creeping to his cheeks. “You and Gaius packed up so many lies, it’s only logical. Mordred closed his curtain when he knew an attack was happening outside his door. Julius is shit-scared.” 

Staring at his wine glass, Merlin licked his lips. “I guess.” 

“Morgana has an innate need to be in control, and she didn’t seem to shy away from asking me directly what had happened, as if she wouldn’t be shocked by the answers. She came around together with Gwen, you know, to take my statement.”  

“I know. And I know that you didn’t tell them anything.” 

“Did Gwaine say that?” 

Merlin shrugged and then nodded.

“What’s up with him anyway?” 

Merlin put his empty glass down and flopped backwards. “I don’t know. I thought he was cool with everything now. We were back to normal. But apparently he’s still…” 

“Wait, what exactly are you talking about?” 

Sitting upright, Merlin sputtered, “You said you knew about Gwaine’s affair? You said that you understood.” 

Arthur gaped. “I assumed he meant Morgana! You’re telling me that was _you_?” 

Merlin groaned. “You didn’t know…” 

“He told me that he’d never actually done anything about it,” Arthur said, leaning forward.

“Because I told him no!” Merlin said vehemently.  
  
“Are you sure about that? He kicked me in the ribs!” 

“That’s because he wants to protect me. And he’s jealous!” Merlin said heatedly. 

“You _told_ him?” 

“Why would I? He must have seen how much I’m into you!” 

Arthur paused for a moment, sitting upright on the couch with Merlin directly across from him. “Tell me once and for all, Merlin, did he do this to you?” He pointed at the bump and the scratches on Merlin’s forehead. 

“No, he didn’t. I swear it,” Merlin answered, batting Arthur’s hand away. 

“Then tell me who did?” 

“It happened when the bastet attacked,” Merlin said. “Don’t worry about it. It’s just a scratch.” 

Arthur nodded momentarily, marking the word bastet down in his mind. “Aright. Then… do we trust Gwaine?” 

Merlin nodded. “Completely.” 

“And Gaius?” 

“With my life.” 

Arthur nodded and took a hold of Merlin’s knee, stroking his leg. “Okay. That’s a start.” 

Merlin looked at the hand on his knee and relaxed, shifting his position on the couch. Then he blinked and reached down between the pillows, digging out Arthur’s phone. 

Arthur stared at it and sighed. His mind went straight to Sophia and his father, and of a handful of nodding acquaintances at the office. He withdrew his hand and turned away, feeling uncertainty creep back into him. 

Merlin noticed and swiped open the phone’s lock screen. “Alright, well, you know what?” 

“Hey, that’s my—” 

“Yeah. Here,” Merlin offered Arthur his phone back. “I’ve given you my number. I should head home anyway. But you can call me… if you need me.” 

Arthur stared at the phone, at the new entry for Merlin Ambrose in his contact list. Something in his chest gripped tight. 

Merlin got up and brushed down his hoodie. “I guess I’ll head out. Come, Killy,” he said, addressing the cat. Unsurprisingly, the cat paid him no heed, neatly curled onto the ugly green sweater. “Traitor…” Merlin chuckled, and left for the hall. 

Arthur sat, stunned as he stared at the phone. Words were forming in his throat, but they weren’t coming out. A thick crackle coming from the hearth made him blink, just as he heard shoes stumbling through the hallway. 

And then a phone rang. 

A tune Arthur hadn’t heard before. Merlin’s phone. 

“Arthur?” 

Arthur stared at the display screen on his phone, reading Merlin’s name which he had just dialed. Slowly he lifted the phone to his ear. “I do,” he said, stunned at his own admission and spoke more loudly into his phone, “I do need you.” _Don’t leave me. Don’t you leave me too._ “OW!” 

There was a tumble in the hall of shoes being flung aside. Merlin appeared in the door opening to the living room, still wearing his jacket, phone in hand. He stared at Arthur with wide, blue eyes. 

Arthur dropped his phone, staring down at his own chest where a light has started shining right out of his sternum from within his body. The light was visible over the V-neck of his T-shirt. Along with it came a sharp pain tore through his ribs and ached with a pounding force. “Merlin, what’s happening to me?” 

Within seconds, Merlin had thrown off his jacket and knelt in front of Arthur. He stared at the light coming out of him, which cast a white glare on everything in the room. “Stay still,” he urged. 

Arthur gasped for breath and held up his hands, panicking as each breath stung like a thousand wasps. “What is it?” 

“Lift your shirt,” Merlin urged, and he helped Arthur peel away his red T-shirt, throwing it somewhere in the room. Then Merlin lifted his right hand and touched the place on Arthur’s sternum where the light came from. 

Arthur grit his teeth and braced against the pain, trying not to pass out. He gasped when Merlin’s eyes began to glow and sat back against the couch. Merlin’s hand followed, and to Arthur’s utter astonishment, Merlin began to smile. 

“Oh, Arthur!” Merlin said, his eyes glowing a warm gold. “It’s you. You’ve got it.” 

The pain began to subside and Arthur took a deep gasp, flexing his arms and legs as his muscles relaxed. “Got what?” 

Suddenly Merlin’s eyes were blue again and he leaned forward to kiss a very bewildered Arthur. He pulled back and said, “All I’ve been looking for.” 

The pain was gone and Arthur blacked out. 


	16. Closing In

Arthur woke up warm and relaxed in his bed in London. He felt Sophia’s body beside him and turned to her, pulling her against him. She complied silently and he lay still, snoozing. Somehow, it felt as if he had had a long and terrible dream and he was waking from it. His ribs weren’t sore either. All was well. 

Slowly, his cock began to swell from being placed against Sophia’s bottom. He let out a sigh and pressed his hips forward, wanting just a bit more of that before they would have to get up for work. His lips founds the soft, warm skin of Sophia’s shoulder blade and he kissed it. She stirred and slightly spread her legs so that he could push his swelling erection between her legs sweetly, nestled right against her crack. 

It was rare that they both slept naked, but he enjoyed it all the same. He pressed his body up against her smooth skin and put a hand on her hip, yawning, barely awake, and thinking about how to tell her that he had had _such_ a bad dream. 

Then she moaned. 

Or rather, _she_ didn’t moan. That definitely wasn’t Sophia’s voice. 

Arthur bolted upright. 

Beside him, Merlin fumbled with the blankets and sat up as well. Pale morning light streamed in through a crack in the curtains at Seren Wen, revealing that Arthur was still in Camlot and everything was very, _very_ real. 

Merlin’s brow was knotted and he looked guilty and hurt. 

Arthur wasn’t sure what to do. He couldn’t reveal that his mind had just reversed right back to Sophia and London. He struggled to come up with coherent thought and utterly failed, brain still very much asleep. 

So, Merlin beat him to it, placing a hand on Arthur’s knee and whispering, “Do you remember what happened last night?” 

He thought back and remembered, and he pushed himself away from Merlin, crawling back until his back pressed against the headboard. “Your eyes,” he said. “And there was a light.” He grabbed his chest, noticing that the scabs on his hand were entirely gone. “What happened?” 

Merlin hugged the blankets around his waist, failing in his attempt to hide the tent that had formed.

Arthur realized that Merlin was entirely naked, just like he was. “Why are you here?” 

Merlin turned his head away. “Because last night it was hurting you. And I know how to stop that when it happens.” 

Arthur regarded him, his eyes stealing over Merlin’s slender form: the way he held his arm close around his side, and the way his small nipples pebbled in the cold, how his light scruff of chest hair was hardly enough to keep any warmth. 

“And being naked is part of that?” Arthur inquired harshly. At that Merlin shot a glare at him so abruptly that he shut up and pressed his lips together. 

“I’ll show you something,” Merlin said and twisted around to show his other side. “You can’t tell anyone what you saw.” Merlin’s long, slender hands rubbed over the skin on his side, where Arthur saw his ribs. From between his fingers a light began to glow. Merlin closed his eyes and he leaned his head back. When his hand withdrew there was a symbol of a spiral marked out on his side, glowing brightly blue right out of his skin. 

Arthur stared at it wide eyed, clutching a fist against his breastbone in case his own pain would flare up again. But it didn’t. The blue light subsided, and when Merlin opened his eyes, they were perfectly blue. Not like the evening before. 

“What was that? What’s happening to us?” 

Merlin smiled tentatively. “I was born like this, Arthur. What you have, I think that it was a gift.” 

“A gift? I don’t understand.” 

“It’s why you’ve healed, Arthur. Don’t you see? You have Aithusa’s heart.” 

Arthur sagged, shaking his head. “I have literally no idea what you’re telling me, Merlin.” His eyes scanned the room, trying to find the things he knew from home, his clothes, his dressing gown, his watch and his phone, as if they would somehow ground him. “I don’t even know what Aithusa is, or if he is real.” 

“She was real. But she’s gone now. I’ve been looking for a sign of her heart and her chain for years.” 

“Her chain?” 

“Think of it as a necklace or pendant. It would be like this,” Merlin said and drew a spiral over his side with his finger. “I thought it might be on you as well. Somewhere I couldn’t find it yet.” 

Arthur pinched his brow and sighed, trying to work out what Merlin was telling him so early in the morning. Nothing made sense. Or did it? Merlin had been staring at Aithusa’s mural for a long time the day before. And the blue glow, he knew he had seen it before, along with those glowing, golden eyes. “Emrys,” he said, “The chain on your side.” 

Merlin’s smile was brilliant and he nodded at him. It made Arthur feel proud that he had worked that out, and a light flutter went through his belly. 

“Okay, so where is Aithusa’s chain?” Arthur asked. “Do I have it?” 

Merlin lay back down on the pillow and stretched. “I don’t know yet. I hoped perhaps it would show… but I’m beginning to think perhaps you don’t have both.” 

“I couldn’t tell you, even if I did,” Arthur said. 

“Yeah, I know,” Merlin said softly. “Don’t worry about it.” 

“What about Kilgharrah?” Arthur asked. “Is the cat…?” 

“That’s just his name,” Merlin said. “Both the heart and the chain were lost many years ago. I don’t know where, or who has them. It’s my life’s task to bring them all together again and keep them safe.” 

Arthur closed his eyes, feeling the life drain out of him momentarily. He spoke flatly, “So that’s why you’ve been taking care of me?” 

He heard an angry huff. “No, you idiot.” 

“Oy,” Arthur complained. 

Merlin sat up again. “No, you really are, you know? I’m right here, and I’ve been right here all this time, waiting for you to bring down those incredibly high walls around you.” 

“I don’t have high walls around me!” Arthur barked, and spread his arms out. “You’re the one being all secretive all the time!” 

“I’m being secretive because I’m not allowed to tell you any of this! I’m only doing so now because I’m falling madly in love with you!” Merlin replied and then promptly shut up as he realised what he’d just said. His cheeks and ears coloured red and he turned away to hide his expression.

“I’m sorry,” Arthur said, placing a hand on his shoulder. He had gone about this all wrong. Perhaps even from the start. He kept fearing that he would have to fight for an ounce of love or reciprocation, while it had been Merlin who had really waited. “I just…” 

Before he could say anything more, Merlin interrupted, voice trembling, “Don’t send me away, please.” His brow was knotted and his eyes were sad, so deeply sad that Arthur had to see truth in them. 

“You’re worried about _that_?” Arthur asked incredulously. “Well, maybe _you’re_ the idiot then,” he said, and he reached out with both arms, pulling Merlin to him, “because I don’t want you to leave.” 

Merlin flung himself forward and pushed Arthur down, locking his lips to Arthur’s fiercely. Arthur hit his head against the headboard in the movement. He grunted and kissed back hungrily, pulling Merlin against him and reveling in the feeling of Merlin’s skin against his, and of Merlin’s erection growing hard against his own. 

“I’m here, I’m right here,” Merlin murmured between kisses. 

His kisses were fast, sloppy, and desperate and his hands grabbed aimlessly at him, as if Arthur would disappear in a moment’s notice. Arthur pulled back and gasped for air while Merlin did the same, staring at him through his lashes, eyes dark with passion. Merlin’s lips were wet and swollen from their kiss, hanging open and waiting for more. 

Instead of offering more right away, Arthur let his fingertips trail over Merlin’s back, trying to calm him down. As Arthur’s hands came to softly stroke over Merlin’s bottom, Merlin bucked and gripped Arthur’s waist more tightly with his thighs. Merlin ducked his head into the crook of Arthur’s neck and panted heavily, the sound further igniting Arthur’s lust. 

Arthur kicked the blankets down and rolled them both over, gently laying Merlin down on the sheets. Merlin reached out for him, but Arthur caught his wrist. “Slow down,” he said, “I want to look at you. I want to feel you.” 

Merlin lay sprawled on the sheets, a rosy colour highlighting his cheekbones and lips stuck in a soft ‘o’. He held onto his pillow and let himself be looked at by Arthur, who was kneeling between his slender legs, and entirely wrecked just by the sight of him. Merlin’s skin was beautiful, pale even, against the white sheets, interrupted only by a modest patch of chest hair and a line of short hair, trailing down to his cock. 

Merlin’s erection stood rock hard and straight, helpless and neglected against his belly, balls lying tense below. Arthur trailed a hand up Merlin’s thigh and he was filled with the revelation how much Merlin trusted him, bearing himself open like that. 

As Arthur’s had slowly cupped Merlin’s balls, fondling them gently with his fingers, Merlin threw his head back and slowly moaned his name. Arthur wet his fingers and took a hold of Merlin’s cock, stroking in a torturously slow rhythm. 

“A-ah-Arthur. I can’t…” 

“Not yet,” Arthur said and stilled his hand, while Merlin’s cock twitched several times, craving more. His other hand stroked up Merlin’s chest and slowly rubbed over one of his nipples. Merlin’s cock twitched again at that, without being stroked, his blue eyes locking with Arthur’s, wide and expectant. Arthur gave an experimental tug and Merlin sucked in a breath, gripping the pillow and bucked his hips up into Arthur’s hand. A burst of passion ignited within Arthur at seeing Merlin unfurl like that. 

“I want you, Merlin,” he groaned. 

“Yeah?” Merlin said back helplessly. 

“I think I’ve wanted you since we went to Asda. You were licking your fingers…” 

Merlin grinned wide and let go of the pillow, sitting up to give Arthur a soft kiss, fingers gently cupping his jaw. Then he reached down beside the bed and gripped his jeans, digging into one of the pockets before he took out a condom and a single-use packet of lube. “I was hoping for something like that,” he said and handed them to Arthur. 

Arthur sat on his knees. “You want me to…?” 

“Yes,” Merlin said, taking Arthur’s free hand and bringing one of Arthur’s fingers to his lips. “It’s what I think about every day, you know. In between all that’s happening. I always want you.” 

Arthur ‘mmm-ed’ and ‘ahh-ed’ while Merlin languidly sucked on his fingers, playing with them with his tongue and offering promise for so much more. Merlin’s free hand started stroking Arthur’s cock and the pure heat and intimacy nearly drove Arthur to the edge. 

“Alright,” Arthur said. “God, you’re so beautiful.” The way Merlin looked down and smiled, shy even after bearing himself open to Arthur, stirred something inside of him. “Lie down,” he said at last. 

With a teasing tenderness he set to preparing Merlin with slicked up fingers. Merlin didn’t stop looking at what Arthur was doing, trembling and shivering but never once asking for him to halt. Arthur’s mind was giddy with lust as he fingered Merlin’s hole and experimentally curled his fingers to see Merlin’s eyes fall shut and his Adam’s apple bob. Merlin’s cock was leaking pre-come and from time to time Merlin would stroke himself briefly, biting his lip and looking Arthur straight in the eye, telling him with his look alone to stick to what he was doing. 

At last, and after Arthur was convinced he would end far too quickly, he rolled the condom onto his shaft and leaned over Merlin. When Merlin gave him his most determined look, Arthur pushed in, groaning loudly at the smooth tightness that gripped his cock, and at the vision of Merlin’s face stuck in pleasure. 

Within a few motions he was pushed deep inside and began a steady pace, grabbing onto Merlin’s leg with one hand and steadying himself with the other. When Merlin reached up to kiss him, he was far too stuck concentrating on steadying his motion to fully reciprocate. All his body wanted to do was go, out of the starting blocks and take him for a run. But he held back, clenching his thighs and built up slowly. 

Merlin began to stroke himself and Arthur saw that he was close, head lolling and sweat dripping down his temples. So he lowered his head, clamped down on one of Merlin’s nipples with his lips and sucked for all he was worth. 

Merlin’s cry echoed off the walls as he came, clenching his hole tight so that all of Arthur’s final resistance fell apart. He smacked his hips deliciously against Merlin’s thighs and came powerfully, pushing deep until passion and pleasure had consumed him completely. 

  
  


*** 

Freya turned up in her fancy dress, black with dark red lace and her checkered scarf, at the abandoned farm. Mordred was waiting there, three stomped out cigarettes lying on the ground in front of him, and the fourth lit between his fingers. 

“You’re late,” he said. 

“You’re nervous,” she replied. 

Mordred frowned. He didn’t like Freya. She had a way of keeping Morgana in the palm of her hand, simply because of what she could do. After everything Mordred had done to protect this village, and keeping their cause safe. After all the information he gathered. 

“Your bandage is showing,” he told her with a small sneer. 

“Oh, lighten up. I’ll just say I stumbled home drunk one day.” 

Mordred put out his cigarette and lit his next. “You haven’t even been in the pub for months,” he spoke, with the cigarette hanging between his lips as he pocketed his packet and lighter. 

“I could say I walked home from _your_ place.” 

  
Mordred coughed and shook his head. He wouldn’t want the lie to reach Morgana, in case she would believe it. Maybe that’s what Freya wanted. He knew that he owed her for his audience with the mayor, but he still didn’t like her. 

“We only have one shot at this,” Mordred pushed. 

Freya smiled at him. “I’ve done this before. You’re still an initiate. Just sit back and watch, it’ll be over before you know.” 

“No, it _won’t_. He’s to be brought in for questioning.” 

She laughed and curled her arm through his, dragging him towards the street. “You’re funny, you know. Maybe that’s why she tolerates you.” 

  
  


*** 

The drive to the church later that morning was a delight of clear skies. Arthur felt light, like a weight was taken from his shoulders. He wasn’t sure they were entirely in the clear yet, but he was more certain now of where Merlin stood, and he was definitely more certain about what he wanted. 

Merlin sat beside him in his large BMW. He had his nose dug deep into his red scarf, but Arthur still saw that his eyes were smiling whenever they glanced at each other. Merlin had initially suggested to walk, but Arthur didn’t want to arrive at the church on foot, and insisted they would drive there. 

“Do you think Cedric’s funeral will be well-attended?” Arthur asked as they drove off. 

“I guess so. I think he knew a lot of people,” Merlin said softly, distractedly eyeing all the buttons on Arthur’s dashboard. 

Arthur put the air conditioning on full blast and proceeded to skid over the road briefly. Although the snow was gone, the treacherous puddles still had a thick layer of ice over them. “But the villagers don’t really _know_ each other, apparently,” Arthur concluded. 

Merlin shrugged awkwardly. “You know, I was actually really impressed about how much you put together on the first investigation. Even when you didn’t know the particulars yet.” 

Arthur grinned. “So, you liked me for my brains and not my body, is that it?” 

Looking behind him, Merlin hushed him. “No one can know about us, and I mean no one.” 

“I get that,” Arthur said, feeling the same paranoia even in a place where nobody could reasonably hear them. “I haven’t lived any other way. My father would hang me if he knew.” 

After a moment Merlin said. “You’re okay with this, right?” 

“Yes. Fine. Why wouldn’t I be?” 

Merlin remained quiet as they approached the village centre. The car was a large lump as it navigated the small town roads. In front of the large open doors of the church several other villagers had already gathered. 

“I just didn’t want you to return to London without knowing the impression you made,” Merlin said at last, offering Arthur a stiff smile. 

Arthur kept his pace a step slower than Merlin’s, wondering about London. Just for a moment in waking up, he had assumed that he might still be able to continue peacefully with Sophia. And that his father wouldn’t dictate his life or close any of his accounts. He had believed he would still be able to give himself up in order to fit into that life. 

But after his time with Merlin, he the mere possibility of reconciliation with Sophia was erased completely. He had never felt that sort of passion before, not even when he experimented with a couple of fellow students at university. And he was certain that Sophia had never wanted him like that either. It had always just been an arrangement between them. Apart from his job and his money, there really wasn’t anything to return to in the big city. And he wasn’t even sure his job would be there either. He wasn’t quite ready to live like a poor man, though. Which meant he had to confront his father. 

As they walked through the village centre, they saw Vivian just leaving her shop. Arthur parked his car right in front of the store and honked. Rolling her eyes, Vivian opened the shop to Arthur, so that he could buy some flowers. He paid for it from his wad of cash.

Back outside, Arthur waited a moment while Merlin bought a bouquet as well. He began to worry about the endurance of his cash money, and what to do about that. It would not see the new year at this rate. And he hadn’t yet ordered a new credit card either. 

“Ready,” Merlin said, hurrying out of the shop with his flowers. They climbed into Arthur’s car again, to complete the two hundred yard distance to the church. Once they had made their grand arrival, Arthur parked his car right beside an Aston Martin DB 9 Volante and pulled the handbrake extra tightly. Someone in this town had his childhood dream car and he felt a sting of jealousy. 

“So, supposing that our conclusion is the right one,” Arthur began as he locked the car with a click. They passed the fountain with the bronze statue and approached the church. “Do you think that Gwaine actually knew about Eira and Cedric?” 

Merlin bit his lip. “I don’t know. I think it’s more complicated than that. She learned what Gwaine had been up to and they had a big row.” 

Arthur supposed that Eira somehow discovered Gwaine’s interest in Merlin. It would have come as quite a shock to her, he conceded. “Is that when she started beating him?” 

Merlin shook his head. 

“Before that?” 

“Yeah. Pretty much always. But not often. Gwaine used to call her ‘passionate’.” 

They were nearing the church and Merlin waved at Gaius, who was talking to Leon and Mithian and three neatly dressed children surrounding them. Julius and Vivian were talking to Mordred not far off. There were several other people, all neatly dressed in black clothes, who Arthur hadn’t met. He was glad to know that his suit was among the best tailored of all, but then in a small farm village none would recognise its excellence. 

Father Elyan stood beside the coffin, dressed in his Vicar garb and looking sanctimonious. He was speaking to two older people who, Arthur suspected, were Cedric’s parents. 

Arthur put a hand on Merlin’s arm. “Before we go in, I think we should start involving the police.” 

“You mean Gwen?” 

“Gwen, and Tom. If he’s here today, perhaps you could introduce me?” Arthur knew the chances were slim, because Tom didn’t get out much.

“I don’t think he’ll be here,” Merlin said as they began to mingle among the other guests standing outside the church. “Why don’t we just wait to see what unfolds today?” 

Arthur nodded. “Just for the ceremony. After that, we should ask everyone what they know. And talk to Gwen.” 

Lance and Gwaine were approaching the church as well now. Merlin sighed and nodded. “Be cautious, Arthur. Not everything is as it seems.” 

“I haven’t forgotten the attack,” Arthur replied simply. 

Merlin nodded. “I’ll see you later then.” He walked off, bundle of flowers hanging in his hand and he greeted Gwaine and Lance casually. 

Gwaine shot a curious look in Arthur’s direction which Arthur met with the simplest expression he could muster, and he turned away to talk to Julius instead. 

“It feels a bit unreal, all of this. Doesn’t it? I mean one day you start off by making your breakfast like normal and you head out for groceries, and the next everything’s upside down.” 

Julius regarded him skeptically, then turned to the coffin and nodded. “It ain’t normal, that’s for sure. And the police haven’t done a single thing yet.” 

“How so? I thought Gwen conducted interviews and was right on top of all the details?” Arthur asked innocently. 

“Well she didn’t look in the right place if you ask me. It was all Cedric’s boss, I say. No good comes from people out of town. And that includes you,” Julius replied and pointed an angry finger at Arthur. 

“I was born here, actually,” Arthur added conversationally. “Right up the hill.” 

“Is that right?” Percy asked, adding himself to the conversation by lifting his flat cap briefly and putting it back on by way of greeting. “I suppose that poor fellow with Cedric’s Mum is his uncle.” 

“They look like posh gits,” Julius said and spat on the ground. 

Arthur felt only slightly offended at that. 

“Ladies and gentlemen, if you’re ready?” Elyan said in a loud voice. “I would like to ask you all to stand behind the coffin and follow us inside. The Lord will hear our commemoration of Cedric Meyers and we will turn our eyes and our hearts to heaven, as we pass his soul onto our maker. We will need a few more hands for carrying.” 

At once Percy and Gwaine stepped forward, but even so one more person was needed. Arthur handed his flowers to Gaius and stepped up to be the last pallbearer, together with Cedric’s uncle, to carry the coffin inside. 

_Well,_ Arthur thought looking at his neighbor across the coffin, _either I’m wrong about Eira, or Gwaine never knew about her affair._

The ceremony ended up being long and dreary with lots of singing. Arthur took a seat all the way to the side of the benches, so he could freely observe people from his position. And because he felt little connection to anyone on the benches apart from Merlin. He took several photos with his phone, capturing the way the light shone through the stained glass windows, straight onto the coffin. 

Lance spoke for a while about Cedric’s achievements in the village and how he was a respected member of the community. He told of a time he went fishing with Cedric and instead of a fish they had caught an old silver key. To this day, no one knew what it opened. After that Gaius spoke about how much Cedric meant to the children in the village as they learned horseback riding and got to know the local routes to travel. Apparently Cedric was very familiar with hiking routes and walked the rounds frequently, for his own enjoyment. 

Then Cedric’s uncle stood up. The venerable man wore a well-tailored suit which Arthur recognised as Stefano Ricci. He couldn’t see the make of the man’s shoes from his distance, but they were clearly designer as well, matching the rest of his outfit perfectly. The golden ring on his finger was large, but not tacky. 

“You might not know me. My name is Kay and I am Cedric’s relative, through his mother’s side. In Cedric’s younger years I supported them, and saw them frequently…” Arthur was disappointed with the simple, familial side to the story and focused instead on the people in the church. 

He saw that Gwen had joined the guests, sitting one of the seats near the central aisle. Mayor Lefay was missing though. Mordred sat in one of the back rows, next to a girl with dark hair Arthur hadn’t seen before. There was also an older blond woman that Arthur had never met sitting next to Gaius. Several other villagers had joined them to pay their respects. 

After a soul shattering story by Cedric’s mother about Cedric’s earlier years, she dedicated a good few napkins to mention their financial troubles. She thought the world of how Cedric handled them, and spared a moment to emphasize her never-ending gratitude to all that her brother had spared them. Many napkins were used after her moving words. 

Afterwards, everyone gathered to the graveyard behind the church and Arthur offered himself up as pallbearer once more. The walk was quite a distance away from the church, and the longer Arthur carried the weight, the more he began to feel the severity of this young man’s death, and the consequence this and the other events had on the town. Whatever was happening, it _had_ to stop. 

Once they had gathered at the grave opening, and Cedric’s coffin was lowered into the hole he would now occupy, Arthur came to stand next to Gwen and bumped her elbow. She sniffled, visibly affected by the departure of one of the villagers.

“Have you by any chance gone to see Eira today?” Arthur asked her. 

“Yes, this morning,” Gwen replied. “She’s doing well, considering…”  

“I’m glad,” Arthur said quickly. He watched as other people placed flowers at the open grave one by one. “I think I might have something more to tell you, actually. But I would prefer if it’s just you, PC Smith.” 

Gwen smiled at him, “You’re remembering more? About the attack, I mean. Not that you forgot, obviously.” 

Arthur grinned, “Something like that. I’m trying to understand what it really was. And what’s happening.” He scratched the back of his neck with his free hand. 

She bit her lip and nodded. “Anything new you might remember, could help us, certainly.” 

“Just one request though,” and he tried with all his might not to seek out Merlin in the crowd. “I don’t want anyone to think I’m a total loon. So, whatever I say is just between you and me, alright?” 

“Of course, come to the station this evening.” 

Arthur glanced sideways, wondering if he would have his plan ready by then. He eyed Father Elyan, who stood with both hands folded around the bible he was carrying. The old leather bound bible had a small bookmark string hanging out between the pages which Elyan had read from. It had a small, tacky coloured cross dangling from its end, set with red and purple stones. Arthur couldn’t help but smile at the new discovery that greeted his eyes. This would be very relevant. 

“Yes, this evening sounds fine. Thank you,” Arthur said politely and stepped away. 

Gaius touched Arthur’s arm and handed him back the flowers he’d bought. 

Arthur tried to sound aloof. “Gaius! How’s your arm?”

“Very well, thank you. You’re doing a good thing here,” Gaius said. “You’ve carried part of the village’s weight, and your flowers will leave a good mark on the people here.” 

Arthur looked down at the flowers and swallowed. “Yes. Thank you.” Arthur placed the flowers he had bought beside the grave. It wasn’t why he had brought them, though. 

A small smile appeared on Gaius’ face and he pat Arthur on his shoulder, leaning closer. “I hear that you and Merlin have spoken.” 

“I, uh.” Arthur wasn’t certain what to reply to that. He glanced at Merlin standing on the other side of the group of people, black hair and unmistakable red scarf making him easy to spot. He was busy talking to Mordred who had gripped Merlin’s arm and looked displeased. 

When Merlin caught Arthur’s gaze he stopped mid-sentence and stared back. A shiver went down Arthur’s spine at his recollection of their morning tumble. He was struck with an instant need to be close to him and to take him out of Mordred’s grasp. He didn’t know why, but something told him that Mordred was bad news. 

Mordred turned to follow Merlin’s stare and immediate let go of Merlin, as if his hand was burned. He gave Merlin a sneer, picked a cigarette out of the packet hidden in his pocket and lit it, walking out of the crowd of grieving people. 

Arthur noticed that Cedric’s uncle, Kay was the only other person who noticed Mordred leaving. Shaking himself out of his observations, Arthur turned to Gaius and said, with his voice lowered, “I hardly know what anyone’s talking about. I only know that people here aren’t telling me anything to actually help. You, sir, included.” 

“If there’s something I am not sharing, it is for a reason,” Gaius argued. 

“And what if the bastet returns?” Arthur asked him straight. 

At this Gaius’ eyes widened and he tilted his head. “We don’t know if it will.” 

Gritting his teeth, Arthur said, “You knew Cedric’s goal, but do you know what that beast wanted?” 

Gaius shook his head. “I really don’t. But there’s something you should know.” 

“Where does such a beast even live?” Arthur interrupted. 

“That’s what I’m trying to tell you,” Gaius said, leaning closer to him. “It’s not a beast during all hours of the day.” 

Arthur stared at Gaius blankly for several seconds. The old man pursed his lips and turned away, heading back towards the church, as several others were doing as well. Arthur was stumped for several long moments until he accidentally stepped backwards and onto someone’s shoe. 

“Oh, sorry,” Arthur began. But when he looked at the shoe he was stepping on, he recognised it as one of Louis Vuitton’s latest collections for men’s shoes. “…sir,” he added, remembering his manners. He was staring straight into Cedric’s uncle’s face. He tried to not think about how many hundreds of pounds he had just stepped on. 

“That’s quite alright,” came the gentle voice of the older man. He sized Arthur up, judging his apparel and smiled briefly. “You’re not from around here, are you?” 

“I’ve lived in London for some years,” Arthur acknowledged, testing the man’s reaction. 

“Yes, I’m from the City myself. Not originally, though, of course.” He took a fancy napkin out of his pocket and leaned down to wipe off his shoe. 

Arthur got a good look at his ring, it was decorated with a tacky bird. “My sincere condolences, sir,” he said. 

When the man stood up again, he lifted an eyebrow. With a firm voice the man demanded, “How did you know my nephew?” 

For a moment Arthur was lost for words. He hadn’t known Cedric at all, and his only reason for being here was his curiosity regarding the case. “I didn’t… really know him. I’ve only recently moved here. My mother passed away and I’m taking care of affairs.” Arthur was impressed with his own quick thinking. 

“Then I must extend my condolences to you,” the man said with a gentle smile, but it did not reach his eyes. 

Arthur realized that he was sweating. It pooled at his back, and his hands balled into fists. “Thank you, sir. There is much grief indeed.” 

The old man nodded. He was called by his sister, who was leaving the site. “If you’ll excuse me.” 

“Please pass my sentiments on to your sister,” Arthur said, a tiny part of him expecting Uther’s voice behind him, urging him to present himself optimally to a man like that. 

The older gentleman eyed Arthur up and down. “You are not of the local stock. You seem like a sensible young man. What is your name? Perhaps I have use of you. If you want to earn some good money.” 

Arthur smiled at him. “An enticing offer. I am fully occupied though. You’d have to go through my personal assistant to make an appointment. I can get back to you once I’ve returned to London.” He wasn’t entirely sure why he had just said that. 

“Arthur!” Merlin called out to him and approached him. 

“Well, then, _Arthur_ ,” the man said and turned around. Something glinted under his scarf, a necklace he was wearing. “I wish you a pleasant day.” 

Arthur definitely didn’t like the look on the man’s face. Merlin was at his side and Arthur tore his eyes away from the man’s thick, fancy coat or his Aston Martin key chain coming out of his pocket. 

“Em, Arthur?” 

“What?!” he said gruffly. 

Merlin was taken aback for a moment, puff of cloud slowly escaping from his scarf, where his mouth and nose were hidden. 

“Sorry. I’m sorry,” Arthur added quickly, rubbing Merlin’s arm as if he had somehow physically hurt him. 

Merlin looked around with shifty eyes at the departing people. “I just heard something important. Follow me, okay?” He still carried his bouquet of flowers and wasn’t making any attempts to place it on the grave. “Come,” he said again and dragged Arthur away, further into the graveyard. 

“That man,” Arthur said, “We should keep an eye on him.” 

Merlin looked back over his shoulder. “His uncle? I don’t think he’s ever been here,” Merlin said with a smile. “Percy and Gwen both said so.” 

“So, what did you learn?” Arthur asked before stepping into an icy puddle puddle and swearing, fancy shoes now caked in mud. 

Merlin was unperturbed. “I overheard Mordred’s friend say that the mayor received an official invitation, but she didn’t attend because she didn’t want to see someone in particular.” 

Arthur stopped and looked back at the open grave surrounded by flowers, now a fair way behind them. “Someone in particular? Do you have any idea who?” 

Merlin sniffled and said, “I know she doesn’t like a couple of people here. Like Gwaine and Tom. But Tom wasn’t here. And… well, it doesn’t make any sense.” 

“So, what are you saying? She doesn’t like Gwaine? I don’t understand, his lorry was parked right outside her home the other day. I expect they would get along well enough,” Arthur said. 

“I knew they didn’t get along,” Merlin said and frowned. “Wait, is that why you thought Gwaine was seeing Morgana?” 

Arthur shrugged and pocketed his hands. “I only saw the lorry parked there. But it was odd, because Gwaine told me he didn’t really have any jobs in the area.” 

“Then why was he there?” Merlin pushed. 

Shrugging, Arthur huddled into his coat. He should have listened to Merlin and worn the ugly sweater. His suit trousers were thin and he was starting to feel quite frozen. “Something only a mayor could help him with, perhaps?” 

“Maybe,” Merlin sighed and continued to walk up the path, deeper into the graveyard. 

“Oy, where are you going?” Arthur pressed. 

“Hold on,” Merlin said, long legs climbing up the shallow hillside. 

“Merlin!” he complained and hurried after him. With nearly no people around, he was on edge. This village had strange beasts attacking people, after all. 

Suddenly, Merlin stopped and Arthur almost bumped into him. Arthur opened his mouth to complain, but Merlin took Arthur’s hand in his and squeezed. Looking down at their entwined fingers, Arthur gulped. They could never show themselves outdoors like that. Not really. Even this strange, magical village was all gathered and ready to talk about Christ and heaven without issues. But this part of the graveyard was quiet, so Arthur didn’t break the silence by adding any foolish words to it. 

Merlin’s eyes were smiling, nose and lips still hidden underneath his scarf. He too kept silent, so that they could enjoy their moment. Then Merlin handed him his bouquet of flowers. 

That had Arthur stumped. Maybe that was a bit much… “What are you…?” 

“Shh,” Merlin interrupted. Before he knew it, Merlin turned him around until they were standing in front of the nearest headstone on Arthur’s right side. 

Arthur read the name on the simply decorated grave and forgot to breathe entirely. Between two engraved bluebell flower shapes, covered in the morning frost, the engraving read ‘Ygraine du Bois’. He sank to his knees in front of it. 

It was his mother’s grave. This was her final resting place. He looked at the flowers Merlin had handed him, an array of white flowers with large white lilies, carnations and roses. He hadn’t given it another thought since Merlin mentioned it days ago. Perhaps he hadn’t even believed it. 

Arthur laid the bouquet down on the heavy stone that covered her grave. “I don’t understand. It says du Bois and not Pendragon.” All this time, she had hidden herself away here. He felt something well up inside of him that he didn’t know he had hidden. He longed to know her, and hear her voice. 

“This is how the village knew her,” Merlin offered gently. 

As he wiped away the small layer of frost, he noticed another engraving, placed in the corner of the large stone slab. It was a symbol of three spirals, curling towards each other. “This symbol,” he said. “It’s the same as the mural…” He hated how broken his voice sounded. 

“Yes,” Merlin said simply, standing beside him silently, without asking him anything or demanding anything. 

Arthur couldn’t begin to tell him how grateful he was for that. “You have one too, right outside your doorstep,” Arthur recalled. Finally, he remembered where he had seen the symbol before. “It’s carved into the stone there too.” 

“It’s called a triskelion,” Merlin said. 

Arthur looked up at him. “What does it mean?” 

“It has to do with the dragons,” Merlin said, his voice nearly a whisper. He seemed agitated suddenly.. 

“You should really tell me about them,” Arthur said, trying to recompose himself. 

“Another time,” Merlin said, holding out a hand for Arthur to get to his feet. 

Arthur took it and frowned at him. “Why?” 

“Someone’s coming,” Merlin said and nodded his head towards the path they came from. 

“Shit,” Arthur said and recomposed himself. He went to stand in front of Merlin, bracing himself for what was to come. 

Up the path through the graveyard, Uther Pendragon was walking towards them with a look of fierce determination on his face. 


	17. Facing the Heat

Arthur stood in his living room in Seren Wen. His father was standing next to the window and looked out over the empty, unkempt garden. Uther had not wanted to make a scene in the graveyard and had simply told Arthur to come with him. 

To Arthur’s gross disappointment, that was exactly what he had done. 

He was stupidly embarrassed to just have left Merlin there at the graveyard. He couldn’t begin to explain his lifelong reverence for his father to him. It wasn’t just gone if he removed himself from the City, apparently. Arthur stood in his living room and felt like a petulant five year old child. 

Uther’s hands were clasped behind his back, and he hadn’t taken off his winter coat. It was finely made, anthracite grey and turned him into a broad, hulking figure which demanded nothing but the utmost respect. Below his right sleeve, his golden Cartier watch was gracing his wrist like always. 

“How did you find me?” Arthur asked when the silence stretched too long for his nerves to handle. 

Uther’s hands moved slightly but the man didn’t turn around. “With logic, Arthur. After you called Sophia and told her you were ‘home’ there were only a limited number of places you could be. That and the GPS tracking on your phone.” 

Arthur clenched his fists and felt the helplessness overtake him like it always did. The mere thought of Uther and Sophia talking about him made him feel utterly depressed. But then, it would be logical that they would have spoken about him. He truly did go missing. It was inevitable that they would share whatever they knew in order to locate him. 

“I have arranged the movers,” Uther said. “They will be here in the morning to oversee your return to London.” 

Arthur clenched his jaw and tried to still his heart as it beat against his ribs in a painful manner. The sting behind his breastbone threatened to start again. It frightened him. He didn’t want to leave Camlot, not yet. He had unfinished business. He had to distract his father from that idea, let him know how important it was for him to stay. “You never told me I was born here.” 

“Don’t be ridiculous. You were born in Windsor.” Uther turned around and regarded him with a sideways glance. Kilgharrah had been napping somewhere in the room. When he passed Uther, he hissed loudly and made a run for it. Uther paid the animal no mind. “Now get these fantasies out of your head. I expect you back in the office on Monday morning. We’ve lost three clients this week, we were defeated in five cases, and you’re needed to pick up the remaining cases.” 

“No,” Arthur said, feeling the hairs in his neck stand on edge. 

“You will start packing tonight,” Uther ordered, disregarding him. He took a step closer to Arthur and took a checkbook out of his pocket. “How much do you need, to settle any remaining affairs?” 

Arthur stared at it. That little checkbook had always fascinated him. How his father threw it around like a trump card. It was cheating. Arthur had always wanted that money, had seen it as a status symbol. Right now, in the face of his new discoveries about the true nature of Camlot, the startling violence in his heart for Merlin, and the challenge of the case before him, there was nothing that money could buy for him to leave. 

“I don’t need any,” Arthur said simply. 

Uther seemed pleased with that, missing the point entirely and looked around the room. “What’s this?” he asked, looking at the piles of paper pinned to the old leather couch. 

“History project. I want to know about mother.” A shiver went down his spine at the lie, and he hoped that Uther wouldn’t take a closer look. 

“She didn’t have much time in either of our lives, Arthur. Best let it go. You have a wedding to plan.” 

Something within Arthur snapped. “If you actually think I’m going through with that—” 

“This is not on the table for negotiation. The arrangements are made. I spent this entire week delaying the venue for a fortnight. You have no idea how much that cost me!” 

“I am _not_ marrying Sophia!” 

“Grow up, Arthur. The way this world works is purely through allegiances such as this. If you don’t put aside your personal objections, you will fall behind. That’s the reality!” 

“And in what reality should I accept what you have done?” Arthur spat venomously. “If we ever have a child, should I call him son or brother?” The blood drained out of his face at the very notion of what he had just said, to his father no less, and fear coiled inside of him like a hot iron. 

“This isn’t about you, Arthur! Or about Sophia! It’s about doing what’s best for this family, our company, and our estate!” 

“Fuck the estate!” Arthur yelled. 

“If you don’t stay ahead, you will end up on the street! So, you will marry Sophia as planned and you will rejoin the company on Monday. Or I will see to it personally that you don’t get a penny!”

Arthur was perplexed that Uther would go that far. He tried to make sense of what his father was saying. Uther would rather disown him than see him live here. And there was no other option besides Sophia. Her family was incredibly wealthy, Arthur knew that much, but surely their union would simply support each other. Perhaps there was more to it than that. 

He narrowed his eyes and jutted his chin, pushing his father for information, “How much financial trouble is the company actually in?” 

During the brief moment that Uther’s eyes widened, Arthur got this answer. Their law firm was in dire straits and Sophia was supposed to bring everything back in order. _Why don’t you marry her then?_ Arthur wanted to shout. But that was a childish thought. Uther would have made agreements with Aulfric, Sophia’s father. They would have planned the transferral of local and offshore accounts, trusts and estates over the past few years. Arthur and Sophia were just the front. What if Sophia actually loved Uther? He hadn’t even thought about that. 

“Did you hear what I just said?” Uther demanded, his head lowered and a menacing scowl appearing. 

There was simply no way of arguing against the man. Arthur knew that very well. And he was in pain. Whatever was stuck inside of him was beginning to throb as if it wanted to get out of him. It hurt. And Arthur was done hurting. “Yes, father,” he said, feeling small. 

But he was by no means defeated. The life that was planned out for him, one of wealth and high profile business, one of fake marriage to further the Pendragon line, didn’t suit him. And he was determined not to accept it, despite his father’s words and regardless of the possible consequences. He didn’t expect that his father would go ahead and disown him, after all. If there was anything Uther was good at, it was keeping money stacked. 

“Then I will head back and see you on Monday. And answer your phone for goodness sake. I shouldn’t have to tell you these things anymore.” 

“Yes, of course,” Arthur said and held his breath, fighting away the tears that threatened to spill at his helplessness, against his father, and against the pain in his chest. 

“And take down these ridiculous notes. I will answer your questions about her once you’re back in London.” 

_What about the dragons? What about the painting on the wall? What about the magic,_ Arthur thought to himself, clenching his jaw. He didn’t expect Uther to even have a notion about any of that. “It’s important to me,” he said. 

“Of course it is,” Uther said, and for once he wasn’t mocking or belittling Arthur’s words. 

The gesture sufficed to reassure Arthur enough to begin piling up the papers he had created for the case. 

Uther saw that Arthur was beginning to gather his belongings, nodded with self-satisfaction, and headed for the hall. Before leaving, Uther raised a hand and pointed a finger at him, “When you are back, you had better apologise to Sophia for all that she had to endure this week.” 

It was the final drop. “Yes, father,” Arthur said. More than ever, he was convinced that none of this would work out. London, Sophia and and his father. They were not his place to be. They were using him for his age, for his skills, for his easy acceptance into the status quo of the elite, even for his seed. And he had always grown up knowing that there really wasn’t any other way. If you were well off, you had to adhere to the rules of high society or perish. And Uther didn’t want to see his wealth perish. Arthur understood it. He understood very well. 

Arthur also understood that he would never be himself if he allowed that to continue. He would live a half-life of blind acquiescence and faded emotions. The sting in his chest became a powerful jab. 

“We’ll go out to dinner on Monday, I’ll arrange a table at Wareing.” The man didn’t even wait for a reply to his three-Michelin star offer, instead confidently striding out the door. 

A few moments later, Arthur heard his father’s car start, and turn on the loose grit of Seren Wen’s driveway. He packed up the rest of the papers and nearly faltered, the pain in his chest becoming an overwhelming ache. 

Stuffing the pile under his arm, he picked up his keys and phone, and hurried outside. He hadn’t even bothered to put his jacket on. He was too preoccupied fighting the stinging pressure from inside of him. The midday was sunny and cool. Arthur knew that his father was probably not even out of the street when he ran through the shrubbery that separated Seren Wen’s driveway from Merlin’s home, and he stumbled up the steps, knocking heavily on the door. 

“Merlin!” he shouted. 

Sweat was beading on his forehead. The pain was becoming too much. Merlin could make it go away, he had said so last night. “Merlin!” he called again, panicked that he might faint on the doorstep. The sharp stinging sensation pushed against his organs, and he grabbed his sternum, feeling with his hands if there was anything he could do to reduce the throb. “I need…” 

The door opened and Arthur collapsed against Merlin, papers flying out over the porch and the hall. 

Merlin held Arthur by his arms, trying to keep him steady. “Arthur! What happened? What did he do to you?!” 

“It started again,” Arthur gasped. He grabbed a handful of Merlin’s clothes and felt his legs giving out. “Help me…” 

Merlin guided him inside and settled Arthur on the floor of his living room, close to the hearth. Then he got up to open the window. Arthur turned to lie on his back, panting heavily and clawing at his suit and shirt. 

“Arthur? Arthur, listen to me. I’m going to take it out. You need to brace yourself.” 

Arthur heard him, but couldn’t see what Merlin was doing. His eyes were firmly shut against the pain and his head swam. He managed to nod and clenched his jaw. He needed to muster his strength so that he could handle pain like this. He simply needed to treat this like an exercise. A push into the next level of his training. He tried to concentrate and control the sensation, but it was too hard, too much. 

He felt his shirt buttons being undone, and sensed the heat of the fire in the hearth, as well as the cool winds flowing past his skin. It was an instant relief. “Thank you,” he said. 

“Em… I haven’t begun,” Merlin remarked. 

Arthur opened his eyes and looked at him. “It’s this place, isn’t it? That’s why this is happening?” 

“In part, yes. It’s a good thing you’re here. I think… I think there’s something wrong.” 

“No shit,” Arthur gasped, offering Merlin a small smile in his momentary relief. 

Merlin gave him a dimpled smile. “Are you ready?” 

Arthur sighed, trying to make himself comfortable on the floor. “What are you going to do?” 

Merlin’s fingers ran circles over Arthur’s chest, brushing through his chest hair. There was a faint glow, but it was too vague to indicate the point where it hurt. “She gave you her heart willingly. That much is clear. She probably did that just before she died. It’s been yours for all your life, Arthur. But there’s something wrong. It’s supposed to offer great happiness.”

He stared at Merlin. “Do you mean… the dragon?” 

“Yes,” Merlin said. “In a way.” 

“Then it happened here in Camlot, didn’t it?” 

Merlin nodded to him, his fingers pinpointed at the exact spot where Arthur felt the stabbing sensation. He had managed to find the exact place. Arthur couldn’t begin to fathom how he had done that. 

“Merlin, why did Aithusa do that to me? Why me?” 

“I can’t tell you. By the magical laws I’m forbidden. I need you to figure it out, Arthur.” 

Arthur frowned at him. “What do you— AH!” Merlin’s finger tips were slowly glowing blue and the pressure on his chest began to sting. This time the sting didn’t come from the inside. Arthur lay his head back on the floor and tried to disappear into the tiles. “Wait…” Arthur begged. 

“I have to. Please trust me. This is destroying you.” 

“How do you know?” Arthur managed to bring out. He placed his feet flat against the floor and grabbed a hold of Merlin’s leg. He needed something steady, something familiar. Knowing that Merlin was there, doing this to help him, was a great relief. 

Merlin’s eyes were ablaze with golden light. His focus was only on what he was doing. “That’s it, Arthur!” 

He cried out when whatever was inside of him began to _move_ and push through his tissue. It was as if he was being torn open with a hot knife. The sensation tore through his limbs. On top of that, he heard a buzzing sound that increased in volume as more pressure was put on him. When he looked down there was no blood, only light. Merlin’s hand was alight with a blue sheen, and Arthur’s chest glowed white. 

“Almost… there…” Merlin said. “Hold on, just a bit longer.” 

The pain was overwhelming and Arthur twitched on the floor. His hand moved up to Merlin’s side, so that he could steady himself. Arthur felt the hot pulse of the blue magical coil through Merlin’s clothing. 

It seemed to distract Merlin, and he shifted. “Ahh, wait. Don’t…” 

“Now!” Arthur said, feeling the muscles in his body convulse. “I can’t take it anymore. Do it now!” His fingers dug into Merlin’s side helplessly and Arthur saw how he twitched at the sensation. 

With a tearing sensation and a large woosh, the magic set free from his body and instantly illuminated the room with a white light. Arthur closed his eyes against the brightness. Only for a moment, he thought. His head swam and he saw a vision of the white dragon and what it looked like. 

She was magnificent, four or five times larger than Emrys and had the most massive wings Arthur had ever seen. She easily matched an aeroplane in size. Her element was the wind, Arthur felt it instinctively. He watched as she soared high above St Brides Bay. The North Star was her compass as the cool winds and clouds welcomed her body in their domain. He became her, just for a moment, and experienced that freedom. It was terrifying and exhilarating at once. 

Then, without warning, she fell. 

She dropped towards the earth in alarming rate. Arthur saw what the dragon would have seen and felt what she would have felt. There was an immense sadness. He felt like crying along with her, though he didn’t know why. The earth and sky spun around her as she plummeted. She closed her eyes against the overwhelming sensations. Her wings were useless, powerless to overcome her deep grief. 

“Why are you so sad?” Arthur asked. He didn’t hear his own voice, but he knew he had asked it.

The dragon opened her eyes again and twisted her body through the air. Instead of falling, she soared. The grief was not yet gone. She swept low over the water of the bay, flapped her wings hard and strong, and flew over the small village of Camlot. 

Arthur had never seen Camlot from the sky, but he instantly and instinctively recognized it. Then he saw his home, Seren Wen. The lights were on. He was curious, and so the dragon flew towards it. 

The small room on the first floor showed a young, blonde woman with a baby. She was crying. It was over too quickly for Arthur to see more. The dragon was already flying onwards, soaring down the path towards the village. She passed the florist and the pub and landed right at the village square. 

Arthur recognized the fountain with the large bronze statue. In front it were two people fully absorbed in a passionate kiss. 

It was dark and Arthur had trouble making out who they were. He was no longer the dragon, but a person. Himself, standing there as if it was normal that he had just landed from the sy. The dark haired woman embraced the man lovingly. The tall man’s hair was short, dark, and peppered with grey. He wore a thick, dark grey coat, golden Cartier watch visible just at his sleeve. 

“Father?” 

Again, there was no voice. 

But Uther looked up and broke away from the woman he had been kissing. She was young and beautiful, her skin fair and her eyes startling blue. Her red lipstick had worn off on Uther’s lips in a thick smear. 

Arthur sat upright and gasped for air. 

Merlin was beside him, holding his hand. He looked relieved and squeezed Arthur’s hand. “I thought I’d lost you there, you clotpole,” he said softly. He was trying to make light of it, but Arthur saw how the vein Merlin’s his neck pumped fast and how a shiver crossed his shoulders. 

Arthur sat upright and glanced about the room. Everything looked completely normal. There were no people kissing, there was no fountain, and there was no great white dragon soaring over the bay. He was sitting on the floor and holding Merlin’s hand. And he felt profoundly grounded, just by that gesture alone. It felt almost as if everything could be okay after that shattering dream. 

“What happened?” Arthur asked. 

“Here, look.” Merlin lifted his other hand and presented a large, unpolished white diamond. It was somewhat angular in shape, but mostly a solid form, and fully transparent, apart from the thick crack that ran through the middle. 

“What is it?” 

“This is Aithusa’s heart.” Merlin gave it to Arthur and added, “This is yours to do with as you want.” 

“No,” Arthur said with a twist in his gut. The stone was as large as his palm and felt warm. He looked at the crack and shook his head. “I can’t. It hurt too much.” He handed it back. 

Merlin looked at him with wide eyes but didn’t take the jewel yet. “You’re giving it to me?” 

Arthur rubbed at his chest, still rather amazed that nothing had pierced his skin. His shirt was open, but right now he didn’t care about that. “Are you saying I need to think about that?” 

Merlin shifted into a cross legged position and leaned his elbows on his knees. He looked down shyly with a smile that made his cheekbones stand out, and whispered, “Yeah, I think you should.” 

Arthur looked at the diamond in his hand. He was beginning to understand all that Merlin was trying to protect. If the world knew that dragons existed, monsters and bastets, magic and bloody diamonds that provided happiness, it would seek them out and obtain them at the cost of everyone and everything around them. “Aithusa’s heart. But it’s more than just Aithusa, isn’t it? I saw something just now… in my head.” 

Merlin smiled at him, though he was very much trying not to. 

Arthur thought it was adorable and took it as encouragement. “Is that normal?” 

“Not in the slightest,” Merlin chuckled with mischief in his eyes. “What did you see?” 

He sighed. “I’m not certain.” He thought about the vision and its meaning. It wasn’t a dream, it couldn’t have been. He was pretty certain that Aithusa was real now, and that meant that probably Kilgharrah was too. He was also certain that he was born here in Camlot and that Merlin could be trusted. “I saw my father.” 

When Merlin said nothing in reply, Arthur continued. “I’m sorry that I left you… at the graveyard. The man who came for me, that was my father. He also happens to be my boss. I didn’t just come here to sort out my life, Merlin. I came here to escape it. But he found me. He figured out that I was here.” 

“You said the word ‘father’ when you were recovering just now,” Merlin offered gently. 

Arthur nodded and looked down. “I saw him. He was holding another woman. Not my mother. It happened here in Camlot. I think… I think perhaps it broke my mother’s heart.” 

Slender fingers gently brushed the hair away from Arthur’s damp forehead. The look Merlin offered him was thoughtful, as he absorbed the new information. 

“Do people die of broken hearts?” 

Merlin reached out and stroked his arm. “Yes, I’m afraid that sometimes they do.” 

Arthur shook his head, unwilling to believe. He felt tears stinging at the corners of his eyes, but refused to give in to them. Merlin had already seen him break before, and that wasn’t a look that Arthur was particularly comfortable with. Not again, he promised himself. 

Everything that had happened boiled down to a single, overwhelming thought. He looked at the cracked diamond in his hand. “Merlin, you have to tell me. Are Aithusa and my mother one and the same?” 

“Yes,” Merlin said. 


	18. The Same

She waited a full fifteen minutes before speaking. The silence stretched on before one of the two people before her visibly crumbled. 

“Mordred?” 

The boy looked up to her with his most determined look. It was not enough. To her, he was still a child with big plans. His ambitions were insufficient to fully comprehend what was at stake; how the world Morgana and her half-sister had built would crumble at an instant. 

“You said you would do anything, did you not?” Morgana cooed with her sweetest voice. 

It sent Mordred into another fit of passionate devotion. “Merlin was there. It was unexpected.” 

Morgana glared at both of them. She saw that Freya was also uncertain. _These children will be the doom of us all._ “Merlin does not follow us, but he has magic. He is valid. Arthur Pendragon and that man who took him are not. Why are they not dealt with?” 

“I could not come close to the man,” Freya said. “He is protected.” 

“Where is the man now?” 

“He left the village,” Freya said in a whimper. 

Morgana took a menacing step closer to Freya. “Do not make me include Morgause in this. You have failed again. Why have you not stopped this departure?!” 

“I couldn’t!” Freya repeated. “I don’t know why, but I could not kill him!” 

Mordred looked down and clenched his fist. “I got his licence plate,” he blurted out. 

“That won’t help us if he is going to tell the world about magic!” Morgana sneered. 

Instead of cowering, like Morgana surmised, Mordred faced her. He had a small smile on his lips. “He won’t tell anyone. He’s known about us for decades.” 

Each time, Mordred brought them information. She had to admit that he surprised her. He had, after all, provided the original map to Gaius’s secret basement, and he had given the intel on Eira. Poor, stupid Eira. Morgana took Mordred’s bait, though she did not want to acknowledge his success. Their situation was too dire for that. “How do you know for certain?” 

“I know his name,” Mordred said and gave Morgana a steadfast look full of confidence. 

Perhaps she had been wrong after all. Mordred was not a boy anymore. 

  
  


*** 

Arthur sat at Merlin’s dining table with a variety of food before him. They had shared a large lunch. Merlin had insisted that Arthur needed to recover from his ordeal and had presented him with a variety of Scotch eggs, delicious cream scones, mince pies filled with fruit, finished with Welsh rarebit. Each bite was another taste of heaven to him. . 

“Where did you learn to cook like this?” Arthur asked, his eyes wide and his stomach roared for more, despite being full. He had buttoned up his shirt again, but he had at least gotten rid of the suit jacket. It was too warm in Merlin’s house and he felt he needed the room after the meal. 

Merlin flinched only for a split second, but recovered quickly. “You should taste my roast,” Merlin offered with a smile. 

“Is that an invitation?” Arthur teased, wiping his fingers on a napkin. 

“For Sunday? Sure.” Merlin’s cheeks were rosy from his hard work in the kitchen getting the large meal ready. He sat hunched in his chair, scraping off the remaining cream from his plate with his finger. 

“Can I stay with you? Just for a few days?” Arthur asked. He needed to stay out of the way of the movers his father had called, as well as his father himself. None of them wouldn’t have a clue that he was now at Merlin’s house. Either way, there would be hell to pay on Monday, he was sure of that. 

Merlin was just done licking his fingers and looked up at Arthur in surprise. “Of course… I mean, I’d like that.” His smile was shy. 

Arthur had been trying to put more of the pieces together, but ended up completely distracted. He had considered himself lucky to have ended up in this random place and found someone like Merlin Ambrose. Merlin had effectively put his mind off his problems, at least for some time. And Merlin had saved him, perhaps even in more ways than one. 

He eyed the rough diamond in the middle of the table curiously. It lay between the syrup and the teapot, as inconspicuously as if it were simply another ingredient for them to enjoy. He studied the crack that ran right down the middle. 

He took a deep breath and ventured, “I suppose your mother taught you how to cook,” Arthur said, keeping his voice soft. 

Merlin nodded. “Yes, she was much better than I am.”

“This was great, Merlin! And I have dined in some of the finest restaurants—” Arthur began, watching Merlin roll his eyes. 

“—in London,” Merlin finished. “I know. You’ve lived the good life.” 

Arthur sharply raised an eyebrow at him. 

“I mean… you’ve never had to scrape to make ends meet,” Merlin clarified aloof. 

Pushing his plate away from him, Arthur pressed his lips together. “A fortune in youth does not stand for a fortunate upbringing. You told me that Aithusa’s heart should bring great happiness. I’m not sure if that worked to be honest. Growing up, wealth was all I wanted. Looking back, I think I would rather have experienced happiness in my family, than never worry about bills.” 

“I didn’t mean it like that,” Merlin said, on edge. 

“No, I know.” Arthur reached across the table and covered Merlin’s hand with his own. “I’m trying to figure out what it means. There’s so many questions in my head. How can my mother also be a dragon? What does that say about me? Did my father know about my mother’s nature? Why did I get her heart? And why is it cracked? And if this is just the heart, where is the chain?” 

Merlin turned his hand around, braided his fingers through Arthur’s and squeezed. “You keep surprising me.” 

He wasn’t certain why his feelings should overwhelm the way they did. Perhaps it was the simpleness of the gesture, or the casual way that Merlin praised him without ever truly demanding anything specific from him. Merlin never tried to shape him into an image. Arthur was both grateful and thoroughly captivated. “Why is that?” He squeezed back. 

Merlin lowered his head and hid his expression. “I shouldn’t say.” 

“Come on _Mer_ lin,” Arthur pried. 

Merlin shrugged and pulled his hand back. He looked out of the window. “Before you’ve got it all figured out, if you’re not travelling back home, I fear you’ll be running away.” 

Arthur felt even more mystified than before. He had only just asked to stay. There was no place to run _to._ Everything he sought was _here._

“But you’re asking the right questions,” Merlin interrupted his thoughts. “Now that you figured it out, I’m allowed to talk with you. I simply couldn’t before. There are laws in place. Your mother wasn’t a dragon per se, but her existence was shared with the dragon Aithusa. On occasion your mother would have probably disappeared for several days and during that time she would be the dragon. She can’t be both at once. She would have been like this since birth. I’m certain that her parents would have known. After all, it’s a very difficult process to raise someone and never let them be discovered.” 

“Discovered? You mean that someone would see a dragon and talk to others about it?” 

Merlin nodded and pulled his hand back. 

Arthur contemplated that, finishing his tea. “I think maybe I already saw Aithusa on the night I arrived. The sightings in the sky?” 

“No,” Merlin said. “I’m sorry, but that’s not possible. Aithusa died. She’s not gone forever, she will be reborn some time. But she passed when your mother did. Their lives are tied to the humans they are bonded with. It was all a great secret. Not even your mother’s students would have known.” 

Then what the hell did he see in the skies? The only thing he could come up with was the bastet, as it had wings. Could it be? And to think that Uther spent time with Ygraine in Camlot. How could all of this have remained hidden to him? “Does this mean my father must have known? He said that Ygraine wasn’t in either of our lives for very long. Perhaps she kept it all hidden from him?” 

Merlin lifted a knee onto his seat and placed an arm over it casually. “It’s possible that your father never knew. I presume he left Camlot immediately after her death.” 

“When she died from a broken heart. As well as the dragon, who suffered with her,” Arthur said. He picked up the cracked diamond and turned it over. “Is that why it hurt me?” 

Merlin stared at the diamond. “She was very powerful. I mean… both of them were. When a dragon and their host perish, their diamond and chain are all that is left. I don’t know why she would give you her heart if it was broken. It was supposed to provide you happiness. Perhaps for a long time it also did, until something triggered it. Maybe she had to keep it safe, and thought you were the best place to hide it.” 

“I just can’t believe that this existed inside of me all this time,” Arthur said. “When I caught Sophia in bed with my father,” his fingers clenched around the diamond. He was surprised when their union didn’t bring forward his feelings of defeat, but simply those of denial and regret. “I should have left her already. It’s not who I am.” 

“So why did you come here, when that happened?” Merlin asked. 

He barked a laugh. “Don’t say that I followed my heart. That would be too tacky. That wasn’t it at all. I wanted to get away without using my credit card, otherwise my father would instantly trace me and retrieve me. Like he tried today. Seren Wen would always be there for me, as a gift from my mother to me. I saw it as an investment, something to eventually get around to leasing again and further secure our estate. When I drove up, I thought that for a while I could try to fit in and find myself. I never thought I would find this.”  

Merlin was leaning his cheek on his hand and listening without judging. His blue eyes observed him curiously. 

“That leaves the final question: where is her chain? I think we can assume it’s not on me, right?” Arthur said. 

Merlin’s eyes roamed Arthur’s body for several seconds. 

Arthur didn’t miss the implications in his stare, nor the way he licked his lips. 

“No,” Merlin said. “I’m fairly certain. But I have never found it, or any hint of it yet. I’m just really glad I found the first trace of Aithusa. My mother and I thought it might have been Ygraine but we were not certain.” He got up and started gathering plates, leaving Arthur with his thoughts. 

Arthur felt agitated. He held the diamond in his hand and paced Merlin’s living room while Merlin did the dishes. There was something he was missing, something very important. If the heart offered happiness, then it hadn’t done its job very well. Or, perhaps his life had always been worse than he imagined it, but thanks to the heart’s care, he persevered. Or perhaps he only got what he deserved, wishing for wealth and fortune according to the values he was taught all his life. 

It stood to reason that one who owned a dragon’s heart would need to learn what to do with it, or be a major fuck-up. People didn’t think enough about what made them happy. They lived avoiding anxieties, trying to obtain happiness from the material things around them. Everything always ended up equated with some monetary value. Arthur knew that as the best of them. He had stayed in an empty relationship that hadn’t been forged out of strategy, it was forged out of fear. 

Then what did that mean for the heart now being outside of his body? He didn’t feel nearly as destroyed as he had recently. Perhaps it had to do with the diamond, but perhaps it was because he was feeling much more like he could be himself. At least, he felt it around Merlin. Was that why Merlin said he knew how to counter the pain? Or did he do something else? Each time Merlin helped him, his eyes had glowed gold. 

Perhaps Merlin wanted the diamond for himself. But no, that couldn’t be right. He had told Arthur to hold onto it, and had denied taking it. Perhaps there was something else he wanted with it. 

Realisation struck him and he dropped the diamond on the floor. It clanged onto the tiles with a loud zing. 

No. 

It was impossible. 

He began to laugh, unable to help himself. How could anything as ludicrous as this be _impossible_ , after everything else he had seen? 

Merlin burst into the room, looking concerned. “Are you alright?” He eyed the diamond on the floor with wide eyes and pursed his lips at Arthur in concern. 

Arthur thought he must be going mad. “No, no, I’m starting to get it now,” he said.  

It all came together. Arthur connected the dots faster than he could follow. Of course Merlin disappeared on his road trips, for days like Gwaine had said. It was obvious now that Arthur thought about it. That’s why Merlin lived in this place all by himself, without too many problems. A homeowner at 23 years old was remarkably young. Of course he would know all about how a dragon would be born, bound to a human, and how hard it was to be brought up that way. And of course Merlin thought that Arthur would run away. 

Arthur circled the room as his thoughts sorted themselves. He thought about how Merlin had helped him twice when the diamond was hurting him, and how the blue light shone from his body, as it did from the coil on his side. Emrys’s chain. 

“That’s what you brought to safety. That’s what Gaius called about that morning.” 

Merlin paled and gaped at him. 

Then it dawned on Arthur and he rounded on Merlin, pointing a finger to him. “That’s what Cedric and the killer were after!” 

Merlin backed up until hit the wall behind him. He was trembling like a leaf. 

“They wanted your heart!” Arthur closed in on him, needing to see the truth in his eyes. 

But Merlin said nothing. 

“I’m right, aren’t I? You are Emrys! You saved me from the bastet. That’s why you disappeared. That’s why you had those scratches.” 

They were close now and Merlin was pointedly not looking at Arthur, but somewhere in the room. His eye inadvertently landed on the diamond lying on the floor in the centre of the room. 

“Look at me, Merlin. Why didn’t you tell me that you are in danger?” 

“I’m not,” he whispered. “No one knows about me, apart from Gaius.”

“Gwen does, surely,” Arthur remarked. Merlin had mentioned the police were involved after all. 

Merlin bit his lip and nodded. 

“Anyone else?” Arthur demanded, needing these final lies out of the way. 

Merlin shook his head, and crossed his arms. He looked quite miserable.

“I’m not going to run away. You already told me you needed my help in this.” He plucked Merlin from the wall and drew him into his arm. When Merlin wordlessly complied, it made Arthur happier than he could have believed. “Fuck, I don’t want anything bad to happen to you, alright?” 

Merlin’s arms held him tightly and Arthur felt him let out a relieved sigh against his neck. “Don’t be daft,” he murmured. “I’m supposed to be the one guarding you.” 

Arthur pulled back and looked him over. He tried to ignore the watery look in Merlin’s eyes. “Is that what dragons do? Guard people like me?” 

Merlin walked past him and picked the diamond up from the ground. “I know what I must do. I must find and protect the three hearts and the three chains. But that is not the reason that dragons exist.” He brought the heart back to Arthur and placed it in the palm of his hand. “They are part of the earth and they guard magic. They always have. There are hotspots all around the world, and they all have their own creatures standing guard. The three dragons here in Camlot are bound together. There’s a whole region that is protected, but it’s mostly centred Camlot.” 

“So what have you got so far? You have the heart and chain belonging to Emrys, and now this. But we’re missing Aithusa’s chain. And I guess Kilgharrah’s are lost, right?” 

“I have no idea where to start looking for Kilgharrah’s relics.” 

Arthur contemplated all that he had learned, and asked, “Am I the owner of Aithusa’s heart, is that it?” 

“In a way, yes. It was given to you, therefore you are granted what it does.” 

“Is that why you didn’t want me to give it to you?” 

Merlin scratched the back of his head. “Erm, actually… being gifted the a dragon’s heart is a symbolic rite. If it is given freely, it is kind of a big deal.” 

If Arthur wasn’t confused already, he certainly was now. “A rite for what?” 

Tilting his head, Merlin took a moment to search for the right words. “Passing on what the gem actually does. It’s offered as a sort of bond. The new owner would experience the happiness that the heart provides. It’s quite powerful.” 

It made Arthur wonder. “I don’t know what to do with it. I know that Cedric was seeking the other one. I don’t want anyone knowing that this exists. If I don’t gift it to you, can you still keep it safe for me?” 

Merlin smiled at him and nodded. “Yes. But that means I will take it away to hide it. I’ll be away for a half a day or so.” 

“Where will you hide it?” 

Shaking his head, Merlin punched him on the arm lightly. “If I tell you, it wouldn’t be hidden.” Then he stilled. “You do trust me, right?” 

Arthur stepped into Merlin’s space and handed him the gem. Then he leaned in and planted a kiss on his lips. “The way I see it,” he whispered, staring straight into his eyes, “you saved my life and that of Eira. And you bear the burden of guardianship for life. I trust you to make the right choices, Merlin. In fact, I don’t think there would be anyone better suited for the job.” 

Merlin grinned and turned beet red. Then he took Arthur’s hand and tugged him out of the living room and up the stairs. 


	19. The Bill

Arthur entered the police station later that evening. Merlin was already gone in his tiny Fiat, and Arthur had been given the spare key. It lay in his pocket as a beacon of trust and delight. After all that he had encountered that week, he was surprised that he could feel so euphoric. He was part of something now, and it was bliss. 

PC Smith welcomed him and showed him to a table in a small office that doubled as kitchen, cafeteria, and by the looks of the large projector hanging from the ceiling, conference room as well. She closed a folder and turned off the monitor to her work computer. 

Arthur realised instantly that she was determined to remain distant to him. He couldn’t begin to pave the way if she would block him at every step. So he decided that he would get right down to business. 

“Thanks for meeting me,” he said. “How is the investigation going?” 

PC Smith smiled and took out her notebook. “Good. Although, during my investigations, I heard that you have been asking questions of your own, I mean, to the people in town. I must ask you to stop, actually. It undermines my work.” 

Arthur didn’t falter for a moment. “You must have been very busy indeed. I’m glad you were able to make some time for me, considering your condition.” 

This had her stumped for a moment. She gave him an odd look, aimed to speak, and then added another odd look. 

“I put the pieces together when you showed up at my house with Lance and your brother. I guess you just found out recently? Congratulations. But… you’re not married, right?” 

Although she was attending the meeting in her business capacity, Gwen reached out a hand around her middle. “Very perceptive of you, I must say. Lance and I are not married officially, but we have documentation in place. We were planning to. The invitations are ready. We planned to send them out last Saturday.” 

“But then you were called in to investigate the crime scene,” Arthur concluded. 

She recovered quickly and leaned back in her chair, crossing her legs. Her voice remained professional as she continued, “You told me you might have more information? It would help, if you could share whatever you might remember.” 

Arthur leaned his elbows on his knees and wrung his hands. “I think I would rather keep this off the record,” he said. He knew he was pushing things. 

“You asked me not to share this information, but I must officially add your statement to the records.” 

He shook his head. “There are many secrets in this town. It would amaze me if you didn’t know about them already. I don’t think you need a notebook, because what I’m about to tell you is nothing that will help the case on paper.” 

PC Smith put both her feet on the ground again. She was wearing wintry boots, which looked like they had seen several winters, and could see many more. She regarded him evenly and said, “If you don’t tell me, I could lock you up for obstruction of justice.” 

“Against what charges exactly, a faulty memory?” Arthur said. He understood the statement she was making. “I want to talk, but I need to know who has your ear.” 

“No one has my ear,” she replied sternly. 

“What about your brother? He told me my secrets would be safe with all of you. Now from a vicar and from a doctor I do rather expect that. But what about Mayor Lefay?” 

“You can’t talk to me like that!” she said angrily. “I’m here trying to help solve a _murder_ , not answer to the fancy of anyone, no matter their rank in town!” 

Arthur nodded and steadied his feet. “I know about Emrys.” 

It took two full seconds for PC Smith’s expression to change from entirely normal, to sudden and complete surprise. Her dark eyes went round. “When you say you know about that, what _exactly_ do you mean?” 

“Emrys saved me from the puma. And it wasn’t a puma, it was a bastet. But I’m sure you’ve got that figured out already.” 

PC Smith pushed herself to the edge of her seat and looked at Arthur curiously. “Did someone tell you to say this?” 

Arthur laughed at that. He wanted to give her credit. It was a good question that could easily make someone crack. In his line of work he had experienced similar probing. “When you visited me together with the mayor, I wasn’t yet certain what I had seen. I certainly couldn’t tell you that it was… a dragon.” 

PC Smith rolled her eyes and gave a playful smile. “I’m sorry, if you expect me to believe this—” 

“Give him a call,” Arthur said. “I can wait outside. If you want to know my thoughts, and how to proceed, then you’re going to need my help. Both our help.” 

“Call who?” she asked with pure innocence. 

Arthur got up from his chair and fastened the button to his suit jacket. “I have to give you credit for your protectiveness. I’ll just—” 

“We’re not done!” 

“Oh, I know that! What you need to do is get on the phone. I know you don’t like outsiders, but I was born here, my mother did some great work here, and if you think I’m going to be a bystander while all this transpires, then you are wrong. The dangers aren’t over yet. You know that as well as I do.” He made his statement and left an angry constable behind, making his way outside. It was fresh and it was raining, so he stayed under the roof as much as he could. He hoped that he was doing the right thing. 

Less than two minutes later, PC Smith opened the door for him. She wordlessly let him back into the station and they took their seats once more. 

Arthur noted the stern look she gave him. “I’m not going to share what I’ve discovered with anyone, trust me.”

“He said I can. Trust you, I mean.” She looked at him and her eyes were kind. 

He smiled and put his hands together. “Excellent, then we can begin!” 

PC Smith stayed still and looked at Arthur intently, playing idly with her pen. “There’s another reason I didn’t travel alone recently. Until I knew the coast was clear.” 

“You’re afraid, that’s understandable,” Arthur said. 

“There’s more,” she said. “Six years ago my father was attacked.” 

Arthur nodded. “I read the article. He was cornered in one of the quiet streets near his house. Someone pulled a knife on him and threatened to kill him if he continued investigations.” 

PC Smith lifted her eyebrows at him. “You can do better than that, surely?” 

He became aware that this was a way for Gwen to test him. “You’re telling me… you’re trying to tell me… that’s not what happened at all. And Merlin, being the journalist that he is, fabricates the cover stories so that everyone gets a feeling of what transpired, but not really.” 

“Better,” PC Smith said. “But not great yet.” 

Arthur sighed, exasperated. “Okay, uh… He was attacked in his own home. Case files went missing. The attack was violent, which left him spooked. The attacker was from abroad, I read that in in an article. But I’m thinking ‘abroad’ is a key word for someone with magic.” 

“Good,” PC Smith judged this time. 

“There is more, isn’t there?” Arthur fidgeted and racked his brain. The pressure was on. But this was something he could handle. He laid out the facts mentally and tried to connect everything he knew. “Tom was attacked and lived. So, he retired. Someone with magic could have probably killed him, which means either the attack was interrupted or the attacker had something in mind other than killing him. Tom went home and lived his life, he didn’t go into hiding, didn’t change his name or anything. That means he was _threatened_. Retirement was the only option left to him. He probably had too much case work done on magic. Unless he became victimised, he would be pressured into revealing the facts about his case to the Detective Superintendent from Cardiff.”

“Now that was great,” a man’s voice spoke softly. 

Arthur spun around and saw a tired-looking man standing in the door opening. He was undoubtedly Gwen and Elyan’s father. He wore a light blue shirt and tattered dark gray corduroy trousers that should have been replaced over two decades ago. 

“Mister Smith,” Arthur said and got up. 

“I’ve been hearing about you, Arthur Pendragon.” Tom walked in and patted Gwen’s shoulder before taking a seat on a chair beside her. “Hello dear,” he said softly and his smile to her was brilliant. 

Arthur was at a loss of what to say. At last he found his manners, the insistent memories of Uther’s angry voice stirring him into action, and said, “It’s good to meet you.” 

Tom nodded and sat back. “I will say this in confidence. I have been following everything for years. Not because I don’t think Gwen can handle it, but because together we can do more to protect the village.” 

“When you say protect the village, does that include the hotspot?” Arthur tested. 

PC Smith cleared her throat. “We serve and protect, that includes everyone. Also those with… abilities.” 

Arthur stared at PC Smith hard. Merlin had told her that she was aware, but he was uncertain about Tom. He couldn’t say anything further unless he knew that it was safe to talk. “And when you find out that someone has any abilities, what do you do?” 

Tom looked at his daughter momentarily and she nodded at him. “Look, I understand this must be frightening to you. I felt the same way while I was still conducting the case. But I have come to learn that some people actually use their magic for good instead of bad.” 

“Does that include the person who put you in hospital?” Arthur challenged him. 

“The attack that night is the single reason I haven’t given up,” Tom answered with a frown. He sat upright. “It wasn’t just an end to my case he wanted. He wanted to know about something very specific.” 

Arthur felt nervous about the answer to that. He glanced between the two of them and wondered how much they conspired. “Well I can’t guess that one. So you’re going to have to tell me.” 

Tom chuckled at that and said. “No indeed. It’s not every day that you are asked where someone’s heart is.” 

At once, Arthur sat on the edge of his seat. “Whose heart exactly?” he blurted out. Then he immediately felt guilty, wondering if he had given too much away. He knew that Tom and Gwen were testing him. 

PC Smith was kind and answered, “Someone we all trust.” 

Arthur sat back in his seat and pinched his brow. The hunt for Emrys’s heart had started at least years ago. Perhaps longer. Tom had been pressured for its location. But it sounded like he hadn’t yet been aware of Emrys’s nature. And he had been threatened to keep everything quiet. “Then whoever attacked you might be Cedric’s killer. That’s what they were after. This is who we are here to catch, isn’t it? We need to know the truth.” 

Tom shook his head. “I don’t know the person who attacked me. But he used magic and was very strong. And I know a handful of them by now, and let me tell you, none of them are as strong as this one.” 

Going over the events in his head in sequence, Arthur tried to work everything out. He wanted to protect Merlin at all cost. Both hearts would be safe, and the cain was a coil on Merlin’s side. It was still at risk. Whoever had found out about the heart of Emrys might still think it was around. Six years ago everything was set in motion. 

“Whoever did it, must have known about the dragons at the time already. Six years ago, when you were attacked, it also seems like exactly the same moment that people stopped having these strange deaths.” 

“Yes, something changed after that,” PC Smith said. “We were more protected.” 

Arthur thought about that. Six years ago Merlin would have been seventeen. Just a kid. He realised with a pang that Merlin would have had to step up as Emrys and guard the village, despite losing his mother, despite the importance to stay hidden, and despite probably being scared out of his wits. He would have had to give up everything. The loneliness of that existence weighed on him. 

“Now you see why we are so careful?” PC Smith said. 

“Yes, I understand.” 

“Go on then,” Tom said, nudging Gwen’s arm. 

PC Smith sat up straight and took a file out from the pile on her desk. “I wasn’t certain about this before. You have to understand. What you did was directly interfering with police work.” 

Arthur glared at her. “I’m trying to keep someone safe as well!” he growled. 

“What you did was a risk to others,” she explained and ignored Arthur’s indignant huff. “The attack on Eira gave us a lucky shot though.” 

“ _Lucky shot?”_ Arthur balked. “You mean you attacked her?” 

“No,” she said. “The lucky part was that _he_ was there to rescue her.” 

Arthur shut up immediately. He bit his lip and felt ashamed for lashing out. He watched PC Smith open the file and took out a piece of paper. “Has Eira spoken about it yet?” 

“She’s been kept in a controlled coma until her health is a little better,” PC Smith replied. “My priority is you.” 

“You won’t stop me,” Arthur warned her. “This is important to me.” 

“Of course,” she said, without any heat and handed him the paper. “I didn’t expect anything less.” 

Arthur took it from her and read what was printed on it. 

“Are you serious?” he asked. 

“Are you?” she offered. 

“You want me to officially work on this case with you?” 

“Just this one,” Tom said. “The stakes are up and I don’t want Gwen on the streets alone. Lance is looking after Eira, and Elyan is preparing the upcoming mass.” 

“So, I can conduct my own investigations?” 

“So that _we_ can continue _our_ investigations, Arthur,” PC Smith corrected him. “We’re on the same side.” 

Arthur shook his head. “On the same side? What about Elyan? He’s had it in for me from the start! I doubt he’ll be happy with my involvement.” 

Tom smiled at him. “Elyan knows of the existence of magic, Arthur. And he fears those who use it poorly, as we all should. He is our shepherd for those who live in fear, and he guides the lost sheep to a better path.” 

PC Smith added, “When newcomers settle in the village, they are frequently in search of something magical. Elyan sees that as a deviation from the right path.” 

“Then how do you know that Elyan didn’t do it?” Arthur asked them. “If I’m to join, I need to know…” 

Tom sighed. “That has to do with his alibi. His and others match an evening of church council. Several people were there to see him. Besides, he is _not_ a killer. He expresses himself through the voice of God.” 

“Among other things,” Arthur mumbled. “Is this effective immediately?” 

“Yes,” PC Smith said. “We can’t pay you terribly much for starters. But there is an amount to be received when the case is closed.” 

Arthur nodded and took out a Parker pen from his pocket. “It’s fine, really. I’m not in it for the money.” He signed the paper, handed it back to her and offered her a hand. “At your service, PC Smith.” 

She placed the paper back into the folder and shook Arthur’s hand. “Now you can call me Gwen.” 


	20. The Lure

Arthur, Gwen and Tom worked for many hours at the police station, figuring out everyone’s alibis and possible motives. Arthur was surprised at how much she had gathered already. 

“Percy said you might involve a forensic specialist. Have you done so?” 

“No,” Gwen said. “Whoever is behind this, we think they knew about magic. We can’t get anyone from the outside to look in on the crime scene.” 

“The groceries must be getting beyond their expiration date. It’ll be hell for Gaius to clean out,” Arthur muttered and shook his head. 

Gwen rolled her eyes at Arthur’s obvious jab and implication of his own inconvenience. 

“One thing that I’ve been wondering,” Arthur said. “Have you been to Cedric’s house?” 

“Yes,” Gwen said and took out a box. “The second time we went to his place, we spent more time searching and we finally found his phone. We got the logs. Most of his recent phone calls were made to his boss in London and to his mom.” 

“No strange text messages? No calls to some unknown number? Nothing fishy?” Arthur pried. 

Gwen shook her head. “You can look at the logs yourself. They seem in order.” 

“I don’t understand. Then why was Cedric after the heart, if everything seems normal about him?” He rummaged through the box between some papers, photographs and assorted items. “Did you find anything else?” 

“Nothing we’re certain of. I’m not even certain if he belonged to the people who had magic,” Gwen said. 

Tom made a noise of complaint. “He had a spell with him!” 

“Hold on, what spell?” Arthur asked. 

“We don’t have it. Gaius has destroyed it. The spell would have granted him access to…” Gwen paused. 

“To his secret basement? Yeah, I know about that,” Arthur finished for her, not bothering to look at her expression. “Well hello, what do we have here? I suppose the fishing trip with Lance was something memorable to him at least.” Arthur held up a small key ring. Hanging from it were a small silver key and a fishing lure shaped like a dragonfly. 

“Do you know what it opens?” Tom asked Arthur. 

“I was about to ask you that,” Arthur replied and looked at both of them helplessly. “Honestly, I don’t think he fished this up anywhere. Not if he keeps it on a keychain. But unless we find a lock, it’s just an item by itself.” 

Gwen took it from him and held it under a lamp. They studied it for a bit longer. The dragonfly was orange with yellow and green fluff, striped with black. It looked completely like an insect and not like anything else. Not like, for example, a dragon mural at Seren Wen. There were no markings on it either. 

“Let’s just move on. I’d like to see your collection of alibis,” Arthur asked. 

Gwen, Lance, Elyan, and Tom had already cleared several people in town. Arthur went over them all. He and Merlin hadn’t been there, of course. Percy had been in the field, looking after his flock and had spotted Arthur on the road, and Gaius, well Gaius had seen the second killer go inside. 

Gwen and Lance had been present while Mrs. Hughes delivered her baby. Geoffrey, the baker, had been making the second round of bread. Vivian had been at the church together with Father Elyan and Gwaine who made up the council. Mithian had been working at the pub, where she had confirmed Julius’s whereabouts, and Leon had apparently been in a road accident when he returned with some supplies for the pub. 

“Wait a second,” Arthur said, looking at the sheets. “You’re saying Leon Knightley drives a Smart?” Arthur wondered at the impossible logistics of making a tall man like Leon fit into a Smart. 

“Yes.” Gwen said. “What about it?” 

“I can confirm he was on the road that night. Took me nearly an hour to get past him blocking the road for everyone, in the middle of the snow storm!” 

Gwen chuckled. “Yeah, it was extremely rough weather.” 

Arthur shook his head and sighed. He read on and came to Gwaine and Eira’s statements. “These all seem pretty solid so far.” 

Gwen looked over his shoulder. The top file read ‘Morgana Lefay’ and Gwen snatched it away. “Not this one, though. The logs confirmed that she was on the phone with someone from the USA when the murder took place.” 

“Alright,” Arthur said. “I’ve got Eira and Mordred, and some names I don’t know.” He read Eira’s report which read that she had been at home alone, watching sports on television. Besides, she had been attacked, so Gwen ruled her out entirely. Mordred, who had been on his way to the pub, had insisted that he had walked some of the way together with his friend Freya. 

“Which have you got left?” Gwen asked him. 

“Alice, Freya, Daegal and Dagr. Why are these last two sheets empty?” 

Tom put the cap back onto his pen. “Because they’ve been missing. We haven’t begun investigating yet. They’re friends from college, and they recently started as interns at the mayor’s office. It’s a school holiday now. Besides, Dagr’s car is gone, so they might just have escaped the stormy weather, you know?” 

Arthur nodded and read on. Freya had met with Mordred and together they had walked to the pub. That was shifty, for certain, because the pub and the general store were not very far apart. But considering where Mordred’s house was, it wouldn’t have taken him past the store to begin with. They could have walked into the pub without seeing or hearing a thing. 

Alice, it seems, had been called by Gwen and Lance, to act as maternity nurse for Mrs Hughes, when they had received Gaius’s message that there had been a break-in at the store. The Hugheses had confirmed her alibi as well. 

With his mind racing on, Arthur got up and took his phone out of his pocket. “This is quite a list. But you are still missing someone.” 

Gwen frowned. “There are more people in town, but none of them have any connection whatsoever. We have everyone,” she protested.  
  
“Oh, yes you have. Everyone in town. But you didn’t take a look yet at Cornelius Sigan, Cedric’s boss from London.” 

Tom threw down his pen in disappointment and Gwen lifted an eyebrow at him. “We’ve been looking for him. He’s disappeared without a trace!” 

“On the contrary,” Arthur said. “And I know where you will find him as well.” They both stared at him wide-eyed. “He is involved for sure. It had my suspicions when I saw his car, but I confirmed it when I saw the man’s tacky golden ring.” 

“You don’t mean…” Gwen began. 

Tom looked confused. 

“So, I looked up the short form of the name Cornelius. There are several options, but one will stand out for you. Here, you can see it on my phone.” He opened the display. 

Gwen read it and balled her fist. “Kay. The short form for Cornelius is Kay. Cedric was working for his uncle!” 

Arthur nodded. “The crow on his golden ring gave him away. The Golden Crow. The man is a first class snob. And I know a thing or two about those.” He pointedly ignored how Gwen was trying, and failing, not to smirk. “Anyway, he wanted to employ me. If my calculations are correct, and they usually are, Mister Sigan put his nephew to work in Camlot to uncover the gem, possibly for selling in his jewel trade.” 

Tom frowned at him. “Why didn’t you share this information with us before?!” 

At this, Arthur was taken aback. “Because… it means he has no motive. Sigan is not the killer.” 

Gwen was also upset. “Don’t you see? If he had gotten the heart, he _would_ have been the killer?” 

Arthur opened his mouth to talk, and closed it again. He pinched his brow. “Does that mean we owe Cedric’s murderer a debt of gratitude suddenly?” 

“No,” Gwen said. “But we know there are two groups who aren’t clean. We will have to question Kay. Cedric’s mother will know where he is staying in town.” 

“Perhaps I should go alone,” Arthur said. 

“No way—!” Gwen began. 

“Hear me out. The man wanted my services. He wants to know the location of the heart. I don’t know it at all. And I’m new to the village, so he will not expect me to be loyal. If he talks to me about investigating, then we can get a court order to search his business affairs. After all, no one knows that I’ve just been employed by you, right?” 

Tom shook his head and leaned back. “I don’t like it. If he knew what he was getting into, then he also understands the risks of magic. This man could hurt you.” 

“They would be hurting a police officer. It gives us an edge. I can visit him tomorrow,” Arthur continued, unperturbed. “I have some protection after all.” 

Merlin would have his back. He was confident about that. 

  
  


*** 

Arthur walked home that night, having left Gwen at the station. Tom had left earlier to avoid suspicion, wearing thick scarf and a colourful winter hat. Arthur was pleased with the evening’s outcome. He would speak with Cornelius Sigan and conduct his own private investigation, the first one as an officer of the law. No one would suspect a thing. 

He was also impressed with Gwen and how much information she had gathered about all the villagers. It was disheartening to know that she still had no clue who the killer might be, after checking everyone’s alibis. 

Sigan was a new player on the board, but there couldn’t possibly be _two_ new players, could there? Someone had been out there, specifically targeting the shop possibly also specifically targeting Cedric. Perhaps they were not there to steal the heart, perhaps they had been protecting it after all. 

He was so lost in thought, that when he turned into his street he entirely missed the two figures walking down the dark lane towards him. 

The stars in the clear sky were the only witness when Arthur looked up to see two women walking towards him. 

He recognised one of them to be Morgana. The other was a blonde woman, just as stunning, who he didn’t know. She had her hand outstretched toward him. 

The next thing he knew, he was flung backwards and knocked his head painfully against the pavement. 

“You’re invited,” the blonde woman’s voice said. “Cordially.” 

A flash blinded him and he was out cold. 


	21. Players

When Arthur came to he was placed in a large hall, richly decorated with paintings. The ceilings were high, and the drapes next to the windows looked like they were centuries old. Several candles were lit across the room and gave it a cosy atmosphere. None of it helped any to reduce Arthur’s massive headache. 

“He’s awake,” Morgana said and she finished her cup of tea, as if it was the most normal thing in the world. 

_Where am I?_ Arthur wanted to ask, but there was a cover over his mouth, which meant he wouldn’t be quite able to articulate himself. Outside the windows there was only a canopy of trees, most of them bare twigs. He tested his arms and legs, and found that they were each firmly bound to the chair he was seated in. 

“You’re lucky we found you,” another woman spoke gently. 

Arthur craned his head to try and see her, but she was directly behind him. 

“You never know what you might find on the street during patrol. Don’t you know there are monsters in this town?” She untied his gag and stepped into view. Her hair was long and styled, in thick blonde curls. Her dress was immaculate and her eyes spoke of both wisdom and cheek. 

“What do you think?” Morgana asked. She placed a small table in front of Arthur which held nothing but a knife, a glass of water, and a pile of sand. 

“Fodder, dear sister,” the other woman replied. “Welcome, Arthur. My name is Morgause. I want you to look at these items and tell me what they mean to you.” 

“Where am I? What did you do to me?” he demanded with a sneer. 

“You’re in our home. We simply took you along. Your belongings are downstairs. You’re only tied because, well, we don’t know anything about you yet.” 

Arthur glanced between the two women. He eyed Morgana venomously. “Aren’t you supposed to be some kind of authority figure? And _you_ ,” he turned to Morgause, “you seem a pretty lousy party host so far. You _did_ mention it was an invitation, right?” 

Morgana simply lifted an eyebrow, but Morgause’s expression didn’t change, not even for a moment. 

“Take a close look at these. You will pick one of these to work with. Which one is your favourite?” 

“I’m going to assume that the glass is filled with vodka or gin, otherwise I really must address your style of entertaining guests.” 

“Water it is,” Morgana said. 

Arthur panicked. He thought about the triskelion, the three dragons, and their elements. Aithusa was air, Emrys was water, and that must mean that Kilgharrah was earth. What if he had just unwittingly given Emrys away? 

“Interesting,” Morgause said in reply. She hovered near Arthur and held her hand over the water. “ _Ic þu éa bebíedeþ_ ,” she whispered. The water began to swirl. 

Arthur stared in shock. Not so much at the existence of magic, but the fact that this woman would reveal it to him so blasé. 

“We need to know what you will do with this knowledge when you go back to London.” 

“Who _are_ you?” Arthur said through clenched teeth at Morgause. 

“I am the leader,” she replied simply. 

“I thought that was Morgana,” he blurted out. He directed his gaze at her and tested his restraints. “Why are you doing this? I tried to help you before!” 

“Don’t you think it’s funny? He doesn’t even address the magic,” Morgana said and eyed her companion meaningfully. “You’re not afraid of it, are you, Arthur?” 

“It’s you. You are the reason behind everything. Cedric, the bastet, and all the strange deaths in this town. And what do you have to say about Daegal and Dagr?” He was afraid, but he felt that if they weren’t showing their teeth yet, he might have time to stall them until Merlin got back. He needed to learn all he could and warn him somehow. Some way… 

“Oh, you poor boy,” Morgana tittered. “You’ve been entirely misinformed. Daegal went home for the holidays. Would you like to see Dagr?” 

Arthur wiggled one wrist that he thought might be more loose than the other. Perhaps he stood a chance. “Did you threaten Tom Smith?” 

“He is a wild one,” Morgause bit back. “We haven’t _touched_ Tom. And we were never near him six years ago. Were you?” 

“What?” Arthur stared. They were asking _him?_ “No way!” 

Morgana leaned over him, showing quite some of her chest. “My dear, you have it all backward.” 

Arthur ignored her figure, simply staring into her pale green eyes, and he tried with all his might to bite back a snarl. These were the people behind everything. They had to be. Whatever they said about Tom, it was just a distraction. They knew magic, they practiced magic. All the other townspeople and their strange deaths had been related to that. 

Morgana tilted her head and pursed her lips. “Not impressed? Okay, how about this. Have you considered the fact that all the users who died have studied for some time with Gaius?” 

“Studied?” 

“Yes, studied magic. We know about you, Pendragon. Your mother was involved, before Gaius began his tutelage. They organised pathetic study groups to no avail.” 

“You leave my mother out of this!” he bit. “You are liars!” 

Morgause put a hand on Arthur’s shoulder, standing beside him. “Why do you think those people died. Do you really believe they were properly instructed in their new skill?” 

“You killed them!” 

Morgana walked away and took a seat in the nearest chair, covered in a beautiful embroidered display of flowers and fairies. “For the love of… he really doesn’t know, does he?” 

Morgause looked Arthur over judgingly and answered him. “Ygraine du Bois taught magic. It was a quiet time for magic users, safe and secure. Everything went on behind closed doors, as it should. After her death, Gaius took over the lessons. He was never very skilled at magic. From time to time, one of his students would perish. Because he is an old man, people tend to forgive him. Our establishment was founded one hundred years ago. Our former leader took in the magic users. And now we do the same, only much, much better. They should never study under Gaius anymore.” 

“What are you telling me, that you have some sort of magic cult?” 

This time Morgause actually flinched. “Why do you think magic is still a secret, Arthur? Why do you think we’ve been trying to cover up what happened in _Gaius’s_ shop? Do you honestly  believe he was the one who saw the second person go into the shop? Did you stop to think that he might have seen the first person go in, and _he_ was the second person? What is to stop an old man like that from protecting the last thing he has left worth guarding, with anything he has to give?” 

“I don’t believe you,” Arthur said. It couldn’t be Gaius, right? Merlin had complete faith in the man. Could it be that Merlin was wrong? “What about Valiant, Edwin, and Helen?”

“You’re looking in entirely the wrong direction,” Morgana said in a bored tone. “Valiant was a drunk. He was sailing when he accidentally witnessed the birth of a dragon and he went mad for it. He drowned himself. The hermit, Edwin, experimented with his newfound skills much too fast. It was his own fault. And poor Helen, remember her? Her magic was of the emotional kind. It was too bad that she was suicidal. She probably didn’t even know what hit her.” 

Arthur’s head was spinning. So they _were_ all accidents? No, if Gaius had been their teacher, then he was responsible, wasn’t he? “What about the people in recent years who were saved from the same kind of bizarre events!” 

Morgana crossed her legs slowly and picked up a cup of steaming tea, situated right beside a filled ashtray. “My, you _are_ a sharp one. Magic is always wrought with danger. Everyone who uses it faces certain risks. There is no good or bad, only the method of how it is used. If someone rescued them when they were at potential risk, well… then they live to tell the story. Life isn’t a fairy tale, Arthur.” 

“Enough,” Morgause called out. “We have some questions of our own. Ygraine was good. She didn’t join our cause, but she looked after people. We need you to tell us about Uther. What did he do to her?” 

“How should I know?” Arthur bit. “I was only a baby when it happened.” 

Morgana blinked at him. “Isn’t that why you’re here? You’re taking up your mother’s old house. You were seen at her grave.” 

Morgause lifted a hand and the bonds came free from Arthur’s wrists and ankles. “Don’t try anything stupid, we won’t hold anything back.” She eyed him sideways over her shoulder. “We are only interested in protecting the magic, keeping it secret from the world, and disabling those who willfully harm it. You don’t seem like the type who would do his best to alert the world of magic, or you would have done so already. So, tell us, what type is your father?” 

“My father has nothing to do with this,” Arthur grumbled. He rubbed his wrists and got up, taking one of the luxurious lounge chairs to sit on instead. “He’s clueless.” 

It was Morgana who spoke next, while Morgause padded around the room, back to the large desk at the end of the large hall. “You should join us, you know. Your roots are here. Our cause is the right one.” 

“Keep me out of this, and keep my parents out too. They didn’t do anything wrong,” Arthur said, feeling suddenly very anxious at the sudden recruitment. He didn’t dare use the word cult again, lest Morgause would have a go at him, but that’s exactly what it felt like. Then again, he had to consider the possibility that they might be telling the truth about Gaius. 

“You don’t really expect us to believe that, do you?” This time it was Morgause’s voice, from where she was seated at her desk. 

Arthur turned, ready to reply to her, and was instead captivated by the large painting that hung on the wall behind the desk. It was a portrait of a beautiful dark-haired woman. She had startling blue eyes and fierce red lips. And Arthur recognised her instantly. She was the woman Uther had been kissing. 

The emotions he felt during that vision, those of deep grief and immense suffering, coursed directly under his skin as if it had only just happened. He swallowed. “Who is that?” he asked without thinking. 

“That is the woman who founded our movement,” Morgana replied. She got a sharp look from Morgause but ignored it. “Her name was Nimueh.” 

“Where is she now?” 

“She founded it a hundred years ago, Arthur. Where do you suppose she is?” Morgause asked with a smile, folding her arms over each other. 

_Impossible_ , Arthur thought. She had been right there at the fountain. She had been kissing his father. And it hadn’t been anyone else, it had definitely been his father. He recognised his coat and his Cartier watch above anything else. And his mother’s grief had been real. The crack through the gem… 

“What’s wrong, Arthur?” Morgana asked, clearly enjoying witnessing his distress. 

“That will be enough, Morgana,” a different voice called out.

Both Morgana and Morgause got up. In the door opening stood Gaius. He wore his usual green jacket and had a dark green scarf firmly tied around his neck. His hands were clasped behind his back. 

“What are you—?”

“We were just finishing anyway,” Morgause interrupted Morgana. Morgana spun around to glare at her, but Morgause ignored it entirely. 

“Arthur, there’s someone waiting to see you. Besides, it’s very late, isn’t it?” 

The way that Gaius casually described Merlin’s return in Camlot made something in Arthur’s stomach clench. He needed to get out of there right away. Somehow, Gaius had known where he was though, it was incredibly suspicious. Should he go with Gaius? 

“Don’t worry, Arthur. We will speak later,” Morgause assured him. She turned to Morgana and mumbled, “Like I said. Fodder.” 

It didn’t do much to calm Arthur’s nerves. He got up and straightened his clothes before walking up to Gaius. 

“Hello, Arthur,” Gaius said, smiling at him. 

“Let’s go then, shall we?” he said stoically and left the room. He had no idea which way to turn, so he followed Gaius instead. Now that he didn’t have those two menacing women around him, he began to feel better. “How did you know I was here?” 

“I got a call,” Gaius said simply. “I’ll explain once we are indoors. Here are your things.” Right beside the front door was a small collection of Arthur’s house keys, his phone, wallet, and the small key that Merlin had given him. He pocketed them all quickly, checking briefly if his wad of money was intact as he remembered it, and it looked virtually untouched. 

Arthur followed Gaius into the cool night. Merlin was leaning against the small Fiat, puffs of smoke escaping into the night air, visible in the light of the lamp post which lit the ornate driveway that belonged to the mayor’s mansion. Merlin immediately got up when he saw Gaius and Arthur approach. 

Arthur was more relieved than he could express. He wanted to run to Merlin, to hug him, and keep him close. He resented Gaius’s presence for denying him that, and simply walked up to Merlin, his heart in his throat, and said, “Good to see you.” If his voice trembled, no one mentioned it. 

Merlin looked worried and nodded. “Yeah, ehm, you too.” 

“We’ll go to my place,” Gaius offered. “We need to talk about what just happened.” 

Gaius was already placing himself into the front passenger seat, which meant that Arthur had to make the impossible happen and climb into the back seat, folding himself double and sideways in order to fit. “We’d better get there quickly,” he warned. 

Merlin put on his seat belt and they took off. 

Arthur swore to himself for his aloof display, when all he ardently craved was Merlin. Giaus kept looking over his shoulder and Arthur didn’t even dare to touch Merlin. He looked out the window at the blackness of the Welsh countryside as Merlin drove them to Gaius’s house. 

“I take it that they did not hurt you?” Gaius asked when they were getting closed. He looked over his shoulder at Arthur again. 

“They only wanted answers. I don’t think I gave them any.” 

“What about?” Merlin piped up. 

“My father. I think they spotted his arrival after the funeral.” 

Gaius hummed to himself. “The witches are very protective.” 

_Witches_ , Arthur thought to himself. Was that what they were? “Who was it that called you?” Arthur asked. He hoped that it was Merlin, so that he could thank him again. Anything not to lose their connection, or pretend somehow that they didn’t have a wonderful hot and intimate afternoon tumble, before Merlin set off to hide Aithusa’s heart, his _mother’s_ , for God’s sake. 

Gaius smiled and said, “It was Mordred. He saw you being brought into the mansion unconscious. This is highly unusual.”

“You don’t say,” Arthur said aloof. He wasn’t certain if he trusted Gaius. “Why would Mordred call you?” he asked. 

“He worked for me for a while. In the shop.” 

“You taught him?” Arthur pried. 

“That too,” Gaius answered lightly. “Not anymore. He sees something in their cause now.” 

It was curious, Arthur thought. Morgana and Morgause didn’t seem like the type of people one said no to. Why would Mordred go out of his way to call someone about his arrival, if he was into the cause. Or perhaps he had been instructed by one of them to do so. If so, then this would be a trap?

“We should be on our guard either way.” 

“Yes,” Merlin said, and parked the car. 


	22. Pointing Fingers

After recounting the story of what happened during his kidnap and his bizarre stay at the Lefay mansion, Arthur sat back in the lazy chair by the fire. He had left out the accusations against Gaius if only because he was sitting in the man’s living room and drinking a cup of his tea. Besides, he was apprehensive of how well it would go down for Merlin. So he remained cautious. The clock told him it was now nearly 2 a.m. and he was spent. 

“They spoke the truth,” Gaius told him. He was a great camouflaged cabbage in his green chair once more. 

“It’s not possible,” Arthur said. “I had a vision from my mother. Nimueh was here in Camlot twenty-eight years ago. She was young and beautiful.” 

Gaius put his feet on an old stuffed footstool and argued, “You believe in this magical vision, a shared memory, but you do not believe in life extension?” 

Arthur looked sideways at Merlin. 

“It’s possible. But I don’t know how,” Merlin replied. He looked worn, Arthur noticed, far worse off than he was. 

“Listen,” Arthur said, “Nimueh was with my father on the day that Ygraine’s heart broke. I know that for certain.” 

“She was a very powerful witch, Arthur. She has always been in search of relics. Perhaps even the dragon relics. If she caught your father’s eye, it might have been for that reason.” Gaius nodded matter-of-factly to him. 

Arthur shook his head. He didn’t want to hear the accusations against the very same people who had accused Gaius, not only of negligence but also of murdering Cedric. “So, you really didn’t know that they had this whole organisation going?” 

Gaius shook his head. “I knew that most of my students stopped attending my classes. At some point I just shut the operation down entirely. I thought there were no more newcomers…” 

Arthur shook his head. He supposed that Morgana and Morgause would have been far too ambitious for a man like Gaius to keep up. Dagr and Daegal would be proof. If they had indeed been interns at the mayor’s office, and secretly learning to use magic, then it would have been kept away from Gaius very carefully. He decided not to mention anything yet, not about his recruitment with Gwen, nor about her suspicion about the students’ whereabouts. 

“I don’t like to deal with Morgana,” Merlin said and yawned. “She pushes people too much. Even when they don’t have much skill.” 

Gaius sighed. “She has very strong convictions indeed. I have never spoken with Morgause, personally.” 

“What did she say?” Merlin asked. 

Arthur rubbed his temples while the tea warmed him up. “They asked me to be on their side. To protect magic, keep it under the radar. I haven’t given them an answer.” 

“They recruited you? But you don’t have magic, do you?” Gaius asked. 

“Of course not,” Arthur said. “There was a moment where they put a knife, water, and some dirt in front of my nose. They made me choose. I made a joke about the water, because I didn’t know what else to do with it, without revealing the dragons. Morgana told me I had chosen water. I need to know, for certain, that I didn’t give anything away. Tell me I didn’t?” Arthur looked at Merlin with pleading eyes. 

“I don’t think so,” Merlin said. “They have never quite understood the dragons. Both Ygraine and I made sure of that in our own time.” 

Arthur felt relieved. “So, what about your shop? What will you do about it?” 

Gaius pondered. “We’re still not certain what happened. Until we know who broke the rules, magic or non-magic, I’m afraid the shop stays closed.” 

  
  


*** 

Once they left Gaius’s house in the middle of the night, Arthur suggested that they walk home instead of drive. “There’s black ice everywhere, and you’re exhausted,” he said to Merlin. “So am I.” 

Merlin nodded and pocketed his keys again. “Yeah, okay.” He looked troubled about something, but started in the direction of home. 

Arthur joined him on the sidewalk. He passed the point where he got picked up earlier that day and looked around suspiciously. The street was entirely deserted, all homes were dark, their curtains closed. There was no sound, not even a gust of wind. “This is where they took me. They said they were on patrol.” 

Merlin mumbled, “Doesn’t sound right. I’ve never seen them patrol.” 

“No,” Arthur said. “I thought as much. They were after me. Well, after Uther, really.” 

They walked on quietly for a minute, before Merlin asked softly. “What will you do about that?” 

“I’m not going to join them, obviously. I’m on your side!” Arthur hissed. 

At last, a hint of a smile appeared on Merlin’s face. “I meant your father,” he clarified, in a puff of cloud. 

Arthur took out his hand from his pocket and reached for Merlin’s. That should be statement enough. He didn’t want to deal with Uther, or anything he had to say. 

They walked on, holding hands, and Arthur fought the panic in his brain. It was risky what they did, but Arthur couldn’t wait until they got to Merlin’s place. 

His need for reaffirmation felt childish somehow, his insecurity desperate for something to hold onto. He felt utterly shocked when Merlin squeezed his hand, and drew him a bit closer. Arthur gasped and kept his eyes straight on the road. 

This was who he was and what he wanted. It was such an overwhelming realisation that he held his breath the rest of the way up the lane, and all the way until they got to Merlin’s house. 

As the door closed behind them, Arthur wrapped himself around Merlin and held on. He felt Merlin hold him just as tightly. 

“I’m not going,” he said. 

“What do you mean?” came Merlin’s tired voice. 

“Back to London,” Arthur said and pulled back. “You asked me what I would do about Uther. He may take away my inheritance, but I would still be the wealthiest man in the world if I have you.” 

Merlin’s surprise was genuine. He bit his lip and said, “You don’t have to do that. Not for me.” 

Arthur chuckled. “Look at me, Merlin, I’m smart and dashing, I’ll make my way in the world!” he said and it earned him a grin. “Right now, all I want is you. I’m falling for you faster than I can comprehend, and I’m a pretty quick thinker.” 

“You think too much… with your mouth,” Merlin complained and leaned in to silence him with a smack on his lips. 

Arthur held him to himself. 

“You’d really stay?” 

“At Seren Wen, if you would have me.”

“Are you kidding? I wanted you since the moment you stepped foot in the bakery.” 

Arthur threw his head back and laughed. He proceeded by practically dragging him up the stairs and making sure that Merlin was tucked in, so that he could rest after that crazy day. He watched as Merlin quickly succumbed to sleep. 

Arthur whispered, “I love you,” testing the words and they felt good. He watched for a moment longer to see if Merlin really had been sleeping. Satisfied that he was off in dreamland, Arthur gave in to his own fatigue. 

  
  


*** 

The next morning Arthur was puttering around the kitchen when Merlin entered at last. 

Merlin had slept in for quite a while, until Arthur had dropped a pan on the kitchen tiles. His hair was mussed from having been washed and he simply wore grey slacks and a blue T-shirt. “What’s all this?” Merlin asked in shock and awe. 

“Muffins!” Arthur announced. “And, well… tarts! Sort of. Sorry, it’s been a while.” He was wearing his suit pants from the other day and one of the awful holiday sweaters. 

“I thought you said you didn’t cook.” 

“I don’t,” he admitted. “But I bake.” 

Merlin’s gaze trailed over the failed tart shapes, traces of flour everywhere, tools that lay spread all across the kitchen, until it rested on Arthur, who was covered with flour and dough.

Merlin grinned and stepped into the kitchen. “What for?” 

Arthur took Merlin’s hand and placed one of the warm muffins into it. “For you. And, well, for Gwen. She wanted to come over to discuss the case… if that’s alright with you?” 

Merlin stifled a yawn, and nodded. “Yeah, of course.” He took a bite of the muffin and looked at Arthur in surprise. “These _are_ good.” 

“I had to work with what your kitchen had. These are caramel apple, and I got some white chocolate with raspberry. Here, try this one.” 

Merlin took a bite and moaned in appreciation, stuffing his cheeks. “This isn’t breakfast,” he complained mildly. 

“No, of course not. But I need someone to try them out, don’t I?” 

Walking over to the kettle and flicking it on, Merlin laughed. “And you know the best part?” 

“Mm?” Arthur asked, trying to rescue the final batch of ridiculous looking scones out of the baking tray, and shaking up a spray can of whipped cream. 

“You look utterly ridiculous.” There was a twinkle of humour in his eyes as he put down two tea cups. 

“Oy,” Arthur complained and aimed the spray can of cream at him. “That is no way to thank me!” 

“I didn’t ask for this!” Merlin reminded him, laughing. 

“Oh, well,” Arthur said and approached with the can of cream. 

Merlin ducked out of the way before a swirl of cream flew over his head and onto the kitchen counter. “Hey! I just showered!” 

Arthur chased him full circle around the kitchen but Merlin was too quick. 

“So, what?” Merlin said, standing in the kitchen door, ready to bolt once more, a wide grin on his face. “You’re going to bake muffins for a living?” 

“About that,” Arthur said and put the can back onto the table. “I didn’t get round to telling you yesterday. I got a job with Gwen to help out on the case. Just for this one case, mind you.”

“You got a job with Gwen? Since when?” Merlin seemed genuinely surprised. 

Arthur sighed. “Yesterday afternoon. I couldn’t say anything before. I got plucked off the street. Morgana and Morgause are suspicious of Gaius, and vice versa. Until I know the truth, I don’t want them to know that I am officially involved. Right now they believe they can tell me anything off the record.” 

“You’re not seriously suspecting Gaius, are you?” Merlin huffed, as he finished making tea for both of them. 

Arthur took his cup and sighed. “I don’t know, Merlin. These strange deaths in Camlot. I know their only solid link is magic. But it also spans the period that Gaius became their instructor.” 

“Is that what they said?” Merlin frowned. 

“Yes. They said… oh, it all makes sense now. They said Valiant died after he went mad. Merlin, he saw snakes in the water, and a great storm.” 

“Everyone told me Valiant was an excellent swimmer. I still don’t see how he could have drowned,” Merlin protested. 

Arthur put his cup down on the counter and pulled Merlin close, throwing an arm around his slender waist. “Merlin, I think that the townspeople have been left to wonder about these deaths as a distraction. There are more magic users than there ever were ones who succumbed to strange deaths, weren’t there? Could they have been accidents?” 

Merlin shook his head. “No, I don’t believe it.” 

He sighed. Merlin could be obstinate. But perhaps he wasn’t wrong. “I have to ask you, were you the one who saved Vivian’s father from being run over by a tractor?” 

Instead of replying, Merlin leaned against him and sipped his tea thoughtfully. 

So, that was how it was. Either Merlin or Emrys, or both, had stood guard over the citizens of Camlot. “Then the remaining question would be, were Valiant, Edwin and Helen also part of Nimueh or Morgause’s cult?” 

“Coven,” Merlin corrected him. “If they were, they would have paid for membership.” 

Arthur nodded. “And who would see those transactions?” 

“A tax man,” Merlin said with wide eyes. “Cedric!” 

“Cedric,” Arthur agreed. “If he handled Morgana’s tax accounts, he might have seen who was paying them for their membership. Perhaps he still has the records. I’m going to text Gwen.” 

Merlin took that moment to steal one of the small, cooling tarts.

“Oy,” Arthur teased. “That’s not breakfast!” 

It only served to make Merlin stuff the tart into his mouth with more haste. 

“Hey!” Arthur barked a laugh when Merlin flinched and spilled half the content of the tart over his T-shirt and onto the floor, getting cream all over his fingers. Arthur grabbed his wrist before Merlin could anything more and looked at him, cheeks full, and grinning like an idiot. 

All of this, Arthur reflected, was so unlike his life had been. He and Sophia had been so independent of one another, always aware of everyone’s high expectations, that their life together had barely even been shared at all. 

In contrast, Merlin would have lived such a quiet, solitary life, with no one looking out for him in particular. The heart and chain would have kept him relatively safe and self-sufficient. But it would have been so immensely lonely. 

And now, Merlin stood there before him, in his comfy clothes, chewing pastry, and alway, _always_ making sure everyone would be alright. 

Bringing Merlin’s hand up, Arthur licked the cream off his fingers, as he had wanted to do when they stood next to the food truck on the docks. He did it slowly and stared into Merlin’s eyes. 

Merlin swallowed the food down quickly and steadied himself. He pursed his lips in surprise, which made his cheekbones stand out. A soft whimper escaped his lips.  

“You are beautiful,” Arthur told him.

A small scowl. “Why do you keep calling me that?” 

Arthur raised his brows. “You don’t want me to say it?” 

“It’s just not something you say,” Merlin clarified. 

He pulled Merlin flush against him, starting to feel desire taking over his senses. Something in his gut stirred, and all he wanted to do was melt into Merlin and be one with him. “And what if I mean it?” 

“Did you say it to Sophia?” Merlin challenged him, hovering his mouth near Arthur’s, but not moving in. 

“Of course I did,” Arthur said. 

“Because you meant it or because you had to?” 

He huffed and held Merlin’s waist more tightly, feeling arms slip around his shoulders. Still, Merlin wasn’t kissing him. “She is beautiful. But no, not because I meant it. Not really.” 

“Then come up with something else,” Merlin said with a cheeky grin. His hips pushed into Arthur’s, persuading him and muddling his brain at the same time. 

“How about cute?” Arthur teased back, his hands lowering to roam over Merlin’s hips and arse. 

“That’s even worse!” he objected loudly. 

Arthur laughed at him, “Shut up, you know you are.” When Merlin dodged his kiss, offering Merlin his adorable snarl, Arthur conceded. “Okay, how about manly-cute?” 

Merlin succumbed to a gleeful cackle and Arthur caught his lips at last. Merlin’s chuckles were soon absorbed into their passionate kiss. Arthur pushed his tongue into Merlin’s mouth and deepened their kiss. He tasted fruit and pastry. 

Suddenly, Arthur hissed and pulled back when Merlin pinched his left nipple. 

Merlin opened his eyes and pulled back, his lips wet and swollen, and his eyes dark with passion. “Sorry,” he swallowed, “I thought it was like… a reindeer or something.” 

“This is the snowman one, Merlin. Are you lying to me again?” 

“Maybe,” he breathed. 

Arthur grinned and kissed him again, and stepped away. “I really want to… but Gwen will be on her way. We should…” 

“Yeah,” Merlin agreed. “You’ve got flour all over you,” he added cheekily. 

“Couldn’t find an apron,” Arthur explained. He grabbed the edges of the holiday sweater and pulled it over his head. He was wearing his neat shirt beneath it, and instantly looked like he hadn’t been baking for hours at all. He boastfully flung the sweater aside in. 

Unfortunately, he completely forgot that the hot tea was waiting there. 

The sweater knocked it aside and it went flying off the counter, straight towards Merlin. 

“No!” Arthur called out. 

Merlin jumped back and held his hands out. 

The fluid hung in the air and the tea cup hovered still, right above the tiles of the floor. Merlin’s eyes shon gold and there was a strange feeling in the room. 

Merlin looked up at him apologetic. “Sorry.” 

The tea found itself back in the cup, which hovered above the floor before settling gently. 

“I’m the one who should say sorry. You… you’re okay with telling me that you’re a dragon, but you don’t want me to see your magic?” 

Merlin bit his lip. “I’m not, I share my existence with one. And… I’m just so used to hiding.” 

Arthur leaned down and picked up the cup. It looked and felt the same as before. The tea was still steaming. “You have magic. Of course you do.” Arthur was slightly stumped witnessing the existence of it. 

It made sense, it really did. He had saved Arthur, rescued Vivian’s father. And probably many others. “I’m just glad I didn’t scald you, to be honest.” 

Merlin looked down and said nothing. 

“Oh, for goodness sake, Merlin. I’m not going to go away… because of this.” 

Before Merlin could answer, the doorbell rang. 


	23. Eyes Open

Arthur drove to town in his large BMW, with Gwen beside him and Merlin in one of the back seats. 

“Are you sure about this?” Arthur asked, carefully taking a corner over the slippery road. 

“What you said was true. We had some of Cedric’s files taken from his home. They don’t go all the way back, but Edwin and Helen were definitely already subscribed to the coven. The signature shows that it was Morgause who enrolled both of them. Olaf too, but I think he actually left after the incident.” 

“Olaf?” Arthur asked. “You mean Vivian’s father?” 

“That’s right,” Gwen said. “There were some other names on that list as well. There’s a whole list, but the ones we’ve looked at were Alice, Mordred, Freya, Dagr, and… Eira.” 

“What about Daegal?” 

“No payment was made. But it might have been _after_ Cedric’s death.” 

“So, you think that Morgana is behind it?” Merlin asked Gwen. “She’s looked after this town for the last ten years. I can hardly imagine that she would willingly let harm come to the people in her coven.” 

Gwen looked back at him. “I have to keep all my options open. I know that Morgana was in a call with someone from the USA. We currently suspect it was Morgause, who was there for business.” 

“Who then flew back here,” Arthur suggested. “To _finish_ business?” 

“Possibly,” Gwen said. “I am only cautiously agreeing with you. I still don’t know if we should be doing this.” 

“You said it yourself,” Arthur argued. “Eira is part of Morgana’s coven. If it’s true that she knows magic, then she kept it from everyone. Besides, she was dating Cedric.” 

“That is only speculation so far,” Gwen argued. “You don’t actually have any proof of that.” 

Arthur grumbled. “I have Gwaine’s statement.” 

“Unofficially,” Gwen said. “But we’ll just have to ask her.” 

“What did Lance say?” Merlin asked. 

“She’s awake now, heavily medicated for her pain. She lost a lot of blood initially, and she’s still not stable. But we can question her.” 

Arthur turned into the street towards Lance’s practice. “If she was part of the coven, does that mean she knows what attacked her?” 

Gwen shot a glance at Arthur, and said, “Possibly. I don’t even know exactly what that thing is.” 

“Who,” Merlin corrected. “A bastet isn’t just a monster. Not during the day. It’s a person. Probably someone from here. I’ve been trying to think about who it could be. I have only two people in mind now. But you just told me they are indeed part of the coven. In that case I don’t understand why the bastet would attack one of their own.” 

“Who are you talking about, Merlin?” Gwen asked. 

“Freya and Mordred.” 

  
  


*** 

Arthur had expected to see blood when he walked in. He was almost surprised when Eira was lying on a narrow bed, with several pillows stuck behind her back, and most of her body perfectly bandaged. A drip was attached to her arm. The heart rate monitor behind the bed was the only movement. It looked peaceful and serene. 

Apart from her expression. She wasn’t happy with their visit and showed it. 

Gwen took her hand, but Eira pulled it back. Gwen stammered, “Please, we are only looking out for the best. The whole village was shocked to hear you were in critical condition.” Lance’s practice had a recovery ward attached to it with three beds, and only Eira’s was occupied. 

Eira offered a miserable snort. “Not the _whole_ village,” she said. 

Arthur and Merlin sat next to each other, on one of the empty beds. They simply regarded her and tried to come up with the right thing to say. It was very hard, Arthur thought. He had no idea how to approach this. 

Gwen’s instinct was much better. “You have received some flowers, I see. May I take a look?” 

Eira turned her head away and ignored Gwen completely. 

“A beautiful bunch from Gwaine,” Gwen began, “One from Vivian,” Gwen continued, “wishing you well.” She moved to the third bunch on the table. “And this one is from Morgana. She writes how shocked she is.” 

Arthur watched her expression closely. Eira closed her eyes and held her mouth in a thin line. The bruise on her left cheek was dark and mean, and her frown made her flinch. 

Merlin stood up and walked over to her. “We’re really glad you’re alright, Eira. We’ve been missing you at the pub a great deal. You and Cedric both.” 

“I don’t really believe that,” she said. “None of you ever really liked Cedric to begin with.” 

“He was your friend, wasn’t he?” Gwen asked. 

“Of course,” she agreed. 

“We are only asking because we are concerned,” Gwen began. “Were you and Cedric involved at any point? Romantically I mean. Or any other sort?” 

“Are you implying that I was unfaithful?” Eira spat. 

Gwen shook her head, her curls moving gently over her shoulders. “I’m not here to judge. I’d like to know who did this to you, and whether this is the same person who attacked Cedric.” 

“You can’t possibly begin to understand. There’s a world right under your nose that you couldn’t even begin to see. At least I know. I know now what the truth is.” 

“And what is that?” Arthur asked, getting up from his seat. It earned him a positively filthy glare from Gwen. He reconsidered his plan to put Eira under fire after that glare, and instead took a more gentle approach. “Cedric didn’t deserve this.” 

When she looked at Arthur, there was something sad in her expression. “I don’t even know you,” she said. 

“No, but I’m meeting his uncle Kay this afternoon. Did you ever meet him?” 

“No,” she said, shifting her eyes away. “I know they spoke on the phone a few times.” 

Gwen lifted her brows. 

Arthur took out his phone and scrolled through his photos. “Here, I want to share a few photographs of the ceremony with you. It was rather beautiful.” 

She eagerly reached out for the phone and looked at the colourful light as it lit up the path in the church where the coffin was placed, casting the white cloth and myriad of flowers into a beautiful display. She rubbed the back of her nose with her free hand and fought her tears. 

“What _can_ you tell us, Eira? We would love to put his spirit to rest,” Gwen said gently while Arthur took his phone back. 

“I don’t know anything,” Eira insisted. “Except… that he didn’t deserve this.” 

“When I speak to Kay later today,” Arthur started, and looked out the window. “Is there any message you want me to tell him?” 

Eira was frightened suddenly. “Don’t tell him anything about me, he can’t know about me.” 

“Why not?” Arthur asked. 

“Because he is dangerous.” 

“To you?” Arthur asked. “For what reason? Being neighbours? Or perhaps you were seeing Cedric?” He wanted to ask more questions, but he saw that he was losing her willingness to cooperate. He only had one chance to make this work. “I’m also afraid of Kay, Eira. Tell me, so that I can help you.” 

“Yes, I was seeing Cedric. And he was a good guy. He didn’t deserve it.” 

Arthur nodded. “Then I will make sure Kay doesn’t find out. I don’t think it will have any consequence anyway, except for you.” 

Gwen patted Eira’s hand. “I will come back to check on you soon. I have to write out your statement. It will be treated confidentially. I’ll have these two sign for it.” 

“Don’t bother,” came a voice from the open door. Gwaine stood there, with a very embarrassed-looking Percy just in the hall. “We heard it all.” Gwaine was carrying a bunch of fresh flowers, and he tossed them on the floor in front of his feet and left, pushing Percy out of the way. 

Percy took off his hat and entered anyway. “We just heard you had woken up.” 

Arthur looked between Gwen and Merlin, who sped out the door to follow Gwaine. The other two followed quickly. 

“Gwaine!” Merlin called out and he ran after him. 

Just for a heart-stopping moment, Arthur thought that Merlin was running to Gwaine to do more than just talk to him. Gwaine paused in the door opening of the practice, just as Lance opened the door to his office to ask what was going on. 

“There’s more to it,” Merlin urged Gwaine. “Please wait it out, just for a little while longer.” 

“Wait?” Gwaine asked. He shot Arthur a dirty glance through the hall and eyed Merlin again. “I did my waiting. And for what?” 

“Shut up!” Merlin said, rather more harshly than anyone expected. “You’re not the one who gets to be angry. It’s not just your decision!” 

“What’s going on?” Lance interjected. “This is a place of recovery. If you have words, take it outside.” 

Gwen stepped up to Lance and guided him back into his office. She turned around once and with a gesture of her head, told the others to leave.

Gwaine pushed the door open with force, and Arthur stopped it from slamming shut again. 

“You’re not being fair,” Merlin urged him. 

“What is fair about any of this, Merlin?” Gwaine shouted. 

“Nothing,” Arthur said. “Nothing at all. Not if all you can see are the people turned away from you.” 

“I don’t want to hear it. Not from _you!_ ” Gwaine spat. 

“Gwaine!” Merlin said angrily, trying to get in between them. 

“Listen to me, very carefully” Arthur said. “It’s not your fault. What Eira did, it’s not your fault. Are you listening?” 

Gwaine glared at Arthur and turned around to leave. 

“It’s not your fault!” Arthur shouted after him. “It wasn’t mine, when my fiancée did the same. And it’s not yours.” 

“I mean, _Cedric_? Fuck off, man! I don’t want to hear it!” Gwaine shouted over his shoulder.  

Gwen stormed out of the building and instantly the three men turned to her. “I’m going to say this only once. Calm yourselves, or take this somewhere that you can work it out in private. Because whatever was out there, still might be. Whatever happened to her might happen again. We still don’t know enough, so unless you all have some _brilliant_ plan, I suggest your keep yourselves safe and make sure you don’t end up in here!” she said and pointed at the building. 

“I’m sorry,” Merlin said instantly, shoving his hands into his pockets. 

“Me too,” Gwaine said and kicked a loose rock. 

“Apologies PC Smith,” Arthur said. He had to keep up the appearances that they had agreed. “Do you want a ride back to the station?” 

Gwen shook her head. “No, I will stay here. I have some more questions. I sincerely suggest you don’t spread this news around town. It doesn’t do anyone any good. And it might stir unwanted attention. Is that clear?” 

Arthur nodded and hit the button to open his car. “I can give you a lift. I’m heading over to Kay’s anyway. And that’s on the other side of the village.” 

“Gwaine, come along,” Merlin said, and more softly he said. “I can tell you a bit more. You might think differently.” 

Gwaine looked at Merlin, whose blue eyes pleaded at him. Merlin was making himself small. It made him cave in and he nodded, swished his hair back, and put his hands in his pocket. 

Arthur sighed as he saw the two of them get into the BMW, Merlin in the front passenger seat, and Gwaine at the back this time. He understood Gwaine’s frustration. But something didn’t make sense yet. He didn’t know what it was, but it didn’t fit well. 

Just for a moment he considered if Gwaine might have done it. His motive for getting rid of Cedric might be the strongest after all. But then his attitude at the funeral, and his surprise when he heard Eira’s confession just now were sincere. He looked at his key for a moment. No, it definitely couldn’t be Gwaine. He was the one who had asked Arthur to be involved in the first place. 

“Buckle up,” Arthur said and started the car. He looked at his rearview mirror at Gwaine and nodded briefly. 

Gwaine merely rolled his eyes and stared out the window. 

“Gwaine,” Merlin said softly. “Did you have any idea that Eira was using magic?” 

Gwaine’s surprise at those words was evident. “What are you saying?” 

“She joined some of the other magic users, Gwaine. And if she was talking to Cedric, then it means she might know something.” 

“What about this Kay person?” Gwaine asked. “She seemed very afraid of him.” 

“Well, maybe she has good reason,” Arthur suggested. “We just don’t know what reason that is.” 

“I don’t think you should visit him,” Merlin said. 

Gwaine interjected, “You absolutely should go see him. Or else I will. If he’s the one who hurt Eira, then he won’t know what hit him!” 

“Gwaine!” Merlin protested. 

“In a manner of speaking. I will get Gwen to arrest him. Jesus, Merlin.” He grinned at Merlin, his disarming smile which easily distracted from his crude behaviour. 

“I’m going to talk to Kay, alone,” Arthur said as they neared the village center. “I don’t think he killed Cedric. At least, I didn’t. Now I’m not so sure. Eira didn’t know anything about the man, except that he spoke to Cedric and that he’s dangerous. Maybe he is the one who attacked Eira.” 

“Be careful,” Merlin said, pulling down his red scarf from his chin. “Call me if anything happens.” 

  
  


*** 

Arthur walked up to the stately mansion. There were evergreens planted to the left and to the right of the driveway, giving the large front garden at least some semblance of life. The Aston Martin was parked to the side of the building, under an open garage, and Arthur only briefly ogled at it. 

He was let in by a sour-faced butler Arthur instantly forgot the name of and shown to the library where Kay, no, Cornelius Sigan, was seated, typing on a laptop and smoking a cigar. The man wore another expensive suit and the golden ring on his pinky finger still bore the tacky crow. 

“A mister Arthur Pendragon,” the butler announced. 

Sigan lifted his hand a mere inch above the table, and the butler bowed, closing the door behind Arthur. 

“Good afternoon,” Arthur said and approached him. 

Sigan still didn’t look up from his work. “Take a seat, Arthur,” the man said neutrally. 

Arthur opened the button of his jacket and took a seat in the luxurious leather chair opposite the large desk. Everything in this place was pristine, seemingly untouched since many decades. It had an air of authenticity to it, without showing any signs of wear. The globe in the corner showed a depiction of the earth, with the continental shapes all wrong. 

“So, you did a bit of research?” Sigan said. 

Arthur felt a cold sweat on his back. He wasn’t certain what Sigan was referring to. But asking the man what he meant might give him away. So, he said nothing and kept his calm. He merely cocked his head and lifted an eyebrow. 

At last Sigan looked up and closed the laptop. “And now you decided to pay me a visit. To what do I owe the pleasure?” 

“I noticed your fine taste,” Arthur said. “In cars, suits, and well…” he looked at the room, “everything.” 

Sigan smiled at him. 

Good, that was good, Arthur thought. Begin with flattery. “When we spoke at your nephew’s funeral, God rest his soul, you spoke of business. I am here to make enquiry of your specific needs.” 

Sigan began to laugh, a long and slow, drawled out laugh that spelled nothing good. His eyes twinkled and the cigar between his finger hobbled along. “You have no idea how many times I have seen your type. Young and ambitious. The sky’s the limit.” He took a slow puff from his cigarette.  

Arthur looked at the man but didn’t speak. He knew the type. Exactly like his father. It seemed like the sort of man who preferred to hear himself speak to listening to others. So he simply waited, pretending to have just as much time on his hands. 

It took a full three minutes for Sigan to sit up and look at Arthur in a new way. “London is quite a way away. You’re a little out of your depth here.” 

“Yes, I am,” he admitted straight away. Then he remained quiet again, waiting for the next information he would receive. He tried not to look around the room too much, but focused on the desk, the laptop, the telephone and the lamp. He occasionally looked at the man in the chair. He was awe inspiring and stately, everything he did was controlled as if he had done it a thousand times over. 

Sigan took a puff from his cigar. “I have business in London. I’m sure you know that already, otherwise you wouldn’t be here.” 

“Then I’m sure you already know what I do for a living, and where my skills lie.” 

Sigan smiled at him. It was not a very pleasant sort of thing to encounter. 

“I have no need of the law. What I need requires someone with a little more skill than you possess.” 

Arthur sat back in his seat, crossed his legs and lifted a hand as if it was a simple business negotiation. “You mean magic.” 

At this, Sigan actually raised an eyebrow. “Well,” he said. 

But Arthur didn’t let him continue. “Tell me about Cedric. You looked after him and his mother financially. I assume it was but a small allowance. But he owed you didn’t he?” 

“No no no, nothing like that.” He waved his hand in the air dismissively. 

Arthur wondered if someone as calm as this could have set Cedric to get a bastet to do dirty work, if that was really in his best interests. He seemed like a person whose only concern would be his jewel trade and further augmenting his riches. If it was this man, he might have tried to sell the heart of Emrys on the black market for mighty sum. Certainly more money than Cedric would ever see. Perhaps Cedric _was_ promised a lump sum as a result of the sale. “Cedric worked for you.” 

“That’s right. I think people underestimated him. He was clever and resourceful.” 

Arthur nodded. “And he fit in with the local community.” He leaned forward and put his elbows on his knees, folding his hands together. 

“Quite,” the man agreed. “I don’t think he managed well enough, though.” He put out the cigar and seemed to look at Arthur for the first time. 

“Perhaps. I never actually had the chance to meet him. I only know everything is on lockdown. They’re only just beginning to tell me more,” he said, hoping to stir something loose from the man. He was remaining intentionally vague, but if he had anything to do with the heart of Emrys, he risked saying the wrong thing. 

“I thought everyone was perfectly amicable at the funeral,” he said with a pleasant smile. “Simple folk, you know?” 

Arthur smiled at that. He tried his best to imitate one of his father’s disdainful looks. “They care a great deal about sheep.” 

Again, Sigan began the low rumble of laughter that bubbled out of him ominously. He reached over to pick up a handkerchief and wiped his hands. 

Arthur noticed a golden glint just at his collar where the light streaming in from the windows caught it. Something heavy was hanging from it, hidden by the man’s silk shirt.

“Sheep, yes. But they don’t seem to know what is in their midst. Camlot possesses something of great value.” 

Arthur did his best to remain calm. He managed to look confused, thinking to how he would respond if his father would do a sudden inquiry or would lecture him on something. But there it was. Something of great value. “Here? I doubt it,” he said. 

“So what _are_ you here to look for?” Sigan asked. 

Arthur realised that he had heard the question once before. Mordred had asked him exactly that. Perhaps Mordred was involved in all of this after all. “A fresh start. I know you did your research, so you will know I work for my father’s law firm. It’s not a great fit for me. I believe I can make my own happiness.” 

Just for the smallest moment Sigan’s eyes showed a spark of interest. But it could simply have been a trick of the light. It was over so quickly. Perhaps it wasn’t real. No one could have that much control over themselves. Then again, if the stakes were that high perhaps he did. 

Sigan pursed his mouth. “Does your father know about your attempt to break from the company? I hear it’s prestigious work. You have a prestigious mindset, do you not?” 

“Most certainly. But my values are not those of my father. He doesn’t seem to value the long game plan.” 

Sigan pressed a button and nodded. “The long game plan. That’s why I invest in diamonds.” 

Arthur swallowed and nodded at him. Behind him a door opened. He felt too hot for his clothes and the gust of fresh air that flowed in was welcome. 

“I will keep that in mind,” Sigan said. “You have sparked my interest. We will talk again.” He held out his hand. 

Pushing himself up from the leather chair, Arthur hoped that enough of the sweat in the palm of his hand would be absorbed. He walked up to the desk and swung his hand, taking hold of Sigan’s surprisingly bony hand. “It was my pleasure, sir.”

As Arthur walked out of the door, he had very unnerving feeling.  

Working with this man would be a terrible, terrible idea. 


	24. Watch Out

Arthur knew that this was the right place for him. Poised on the couch on top of Merlin, with Merlin’s legs wrapped around his waist, and Merlin’s mouth filthily devouring his, was exactly where he should be. He was thoroughly enjoying the urgency Merlin showed him time and again. He had not felt this wanted in years. 

They had spent some time on Merlin’s couch earlier, spying through the curtains at Seren Wen. The movers Uther had called were trying to reach Arthur when he wouldn’t open the door. Arthur ignored the incoming calls on his phone each time. The movers then proceeded to make everal other phone calls. They even walked around the house to the back. Seren Wen’s curtains were open and there was obviously no one home. After about an hour standing in the cold, the moving van finally left. 

Now, the perfect place for them was Merlin’s old, ugly couch, and Arthur wasted no further time claiming him, showing him with body, mind, and spirit—but mostly his body—that Merlin was all and everything he wanted. 

When they were both spent, lying naked together and watching the hearth, dozing in state of not-quite-giving-in-to-the-desire-to-sleep, Kilgharrah greeted them by brushing his tail past Arthur’s elbow and meowing loudly. 

Arthur was lying on his back, with Merlin sprawled over him, and Arthur was gently stroking the skin of Merlin’s back up and down. 

“How was your meeting with Uncle Kay?” Merlin asked drowsily. 

“Mister Sigan is highly intelligent. A businessman, probably a sociopath. He claims to care about Cedric but… he only believes in investment and trade.” 

“Big shot,” Merlin mumbled against Arthur’s collarbone and planted a kiss there. 

“He already knew about the magic. He mentioned two things to me, asking what I came to Camlot to find, and he said his interest was investing in diamonds. Do you think he means the heart?” 

Merlin sighed. “It’s really vague. But how else would Cedric have known about it being here?” 

Arthur’s hand trailed all the way up and massaged the nape of Merlin’s neck. He heard a content moan and felt him relax. “I don’t trust that man.” 

“What about the bastet?” Merlin asked 

“See, this is the thing,” Arthur said. “I don’t trust Mordred either. He’s a shifty little weasel all-round. But he _can’t_ be the bastet because he closed the curtains when Eira was attacked. But that in itself makes him _guilty_ , don’t you think?” 

“Do you know for certain it was him who closed the curtains?” 

Arthur got up and put on his boxer shorts, followed by his trousers. “I don’t even know if he truly called Gaius last night.” 

“Gaius wouldn’t lie about that,” Merlin said resolutely and sat up. 

“Either way, I suspect Mordred might have been the one to hear—” Arthur’s phone started buzzing again. It was a long time since the movers had left and at a glance he saw that it was his father calling. “Shit.” 

Merlin was halfway getting dressed, struggling with a sock, while Arthur picked up. 

“Yes?” 

“Do you honestly believe I’m that stupid?” Uther called out to him. “If you are not at Seren Wen in ten minutes to open the door, there will be hell to pay!” 

“What do you mean?” Arthur felt on edge and searched for his shirt, which had been tossed somewhere behind the couch. 

“I didn’t go back to London yet. I did not believe you were sincere with anything. How could you lie to me like that? I’m your father!” 

Arthur walked up to the window and looked at his house. It was entirely peaceful. Was his father bluffing? “I didn’t lie. Something came up…” 

“Do not give me that! I am done with your excuses. You will be there in ten minutes, do you understand me? And you will hand me the keys.” 

“Yes, father,” Arthur said. He glanced at Merlin apologetically as he hung up. “This is going to be bad. I have to go over there and talk to him. He wants the keys.” 

Merlin pulled his T-shirt over his head. “What will you do?” 

“I don’t know. I won’t give him what he wants.” 

Merlin came to stand in front of him and cupped his face. “Want me to come with you?” 

“No… no, he can’t know about you.” 

“Arthur, what if he… I don’t want you to get hurt.” 

Arthur pulled Merlin’s hands away from his face. “ _Hurt_? My father? No way! He’s just going to take away everything I’ve ever had. He’s going to pretend it’s all his money, and that all my working years were just to pay off the debt of his fatherhood, and that I haven’t earned a single penny myself.” 

Merlin glared. “He’s kept you lonely, Arthur. He’s never allowed you to be who you really are.”  

“He’s still my father, Merlin,” Arthur whispered and shrugged into his suit jacket. He could use a fresh set of clothes when he was there. “He loves me, in his own way. You can come along, but please just stay out of sight.” 

  
  


*** 

Arthur changed into his own clothes again, a pair of light coloured jeans and a red V-neck T-shirt, and a semi casual Armani suit jacket, with fashionable patches in all the right places, and a silk bordeaux lining, that made it stand out if worn loosely. He fixed his hair in the bathroom mirror and put on his proper shoes. All the while Merlin was watching him. 

“What’s wrong?” 

“You’re doing this to see your father,” came Merlin’s reply. “You shouldn’t have to do that, don’t you see?” 

Arthur checked himself in the mirror once more. “I appreciate that, Merlin. I do, truly. But in the world I’ve grown up in, that isn’t acceptable. Not even to grab a late night snack, do you understand me?”

Merlin frowned. “I hear your words, but don’t you see that they make no sense? You’ve been conditioned.” 

“There’s a difference between being conditioned without knowing, and with perfectly knowing what you’re doing. I know what I’m doing, Merlin. I don’t want my father to cut me off. He could do much, much worse. He could blacklist me as a lawyer for abandoning his firm. He could—” 

“Shut up! You’re not listening. There shouldn’t be any conditions to you being his son!” Merlin stood with his fists balled and looked desperately unhappy. 

Arthur smiled at him. “You don’t have to rescue me from this, Merlin. Though I appreciate it.” 

“You’re a real prat sometimes, you know that?” Merlin huffed. 

Arthur grinned him cheekily. 

The doorbell went. 

Arthur trotted down the stairs and opened the door to his father, who strode in without so much as a hello. He bulldozed into the living room. The house was warm now, having been on full blast day and night for a week. All the lights were on. It was nearly cosy, except for the fact that nothing had stirred in the house for nearly two days now. 

Arthur stood in the living room and kept a hand rested on the back of a chair, to keep himself stable, and to not give Uther the idea that he had the upper hand in this. 

Nevertheless, his father had a mind of his own. “Did you really think that I wouldn’t find out?” 

Arthur steeled himself. “That I have no intention of returning to London?”

Uther pointed at him, his mouth puckered in anger. “Are you playing me for a fool, is that it? You’re doing it on purpose aren’t you?” 

“This gives me no pleasure whatsoever, father,” Arthur assured him. 

“Do you have any idea what you have done to our company with your absence? You have always been _such_ a selfish child.” 

Arthur fumed. Merlin’s words rang true. “I have given everything, father!” 

“The _one_ thing you had to do was to marry Sophia. We had this agreed upon five years ago! You signed as well!” 

“And now I’m backing out,” Arthur shouted. “Your agreement with me is not a legally binding document. You cannot marry me off to secure your company’s future!” 

“If you refuse to return to work, you are fired from this moment onwards without benefits!” Uther threatened, taking a step closer. His fist was balled and his knuckles were turned white. 

“If that’s what you have to do,” Arthur said. 

Uther shook his head. “You are bringing us to ruin! It’s all your fault.” 

“No, father,” Arthur said, tasting bile. “Just you. You were right, yesterday. It’s not about me, or Sophia. It’s about you. It was always about you.” 

Uther’s top lip curled up in a sneer and he advanced on Arthur. “Oh, but it isn’t. I saw you, Arthur.” 

Swallowing down the thick lump in his throat, Arthur asked, “Saw me what?”

“You were holding hands.” 

Arthur stared wide-eyed at his father. A cold chill shot down his spine and threatened to offer him his last meal back up. A thick and heavy sense of guilt numbed his brain. “What?” 

“How can you be so selfish? After everything I have taught you about the world. You leave _everyone_ at the company behind to follow some fancy. You have no idea what’s at stake!” 

“Millions, father. Millions are at stake. Do you see me running back to that? Have I asked you to understand or forgive me?” He became aware of his trembling legs as he spoke to his father in this way. 

Uther bristled. “It’s not going to bring you anything! People like that will ruin you!” His finger, pointed at Arthur, showed that Uther meant business. 

“Well I’m taking that chance, because I love him!” Arthur shouted, feeling that his face was red both from blushing and anger at once. 

“You don’t know a thing about love—!” 

“And you do?” Arthur interrupted him. “You cheated on Mum!” 

It was Uther’s turn to be entirely surprised. He relaxed his fist for a moment, but then balled it again. The watch beneath it shon in the light of the room. “How dare you speak to me like that? Your mother gave everything! She was sick!” 

“She died of a broken heart!” Arthur shouted. The man before him didn’t feel like his father anymore, but like a man who countered him at every turn. This was not a man to look up to. He took a step closer menacingly. “I want you out of my house.” 

“Don’t think you have any weight over me, Arthur,” Uther said and put a hand on Arthur’s shoulder, squeezing cruelly. “You will give me the keys to this house, put all of this behind you, and you will have great happiness.” 

Just for a moment the room felt stuffy. Arthur wasn’t certain what to respond to that. Then he pulled back from Uther’s grip. “What did you say?” 

“Or I swear to God, Arthur, I will cut you off entirely.” Uther’s eyes were crazed. 

“You knew…” The room spun. Everything fell into place for Arthur. All the dots connected themselves. Uther had always known that Ygraine had gifted her heart to him. Arthur would live a life of great happiness. All that Uther needed to do was to mold Arthur into providing the happiness that Uther wanted for himself. Shape him and perfect him and ensure that there was nothing Arthur could do to protest. 

And of course, he hadn’t counted on his son to be gay. 

Sophia was the perfect horse to bet on. She was being treated equally unfairly. But according to Uther, she would have been perfect for the plan. Arthur might have even been happy with her, if he had been anything like a proper partner to her. 

And ever since Arthur’s discovery of their adultery, something had snapped. The pain in Ygraine’s had stirred something. Meanwhile the entire company was starting to fall to ruin, because Arthur’s successes were due to the heart being inside of him, helping him along. Or perhaps they were his own successes, but he was sharing them with his co-workers. And eventually, indirectly with his father too. 

And now Uther was losing everything. 

“I’m not doing it,” Arthur told him. “You have thought about no one apart from yourself for all this time. What did Nimueh promise you, huh? Happiness, protection? Did you ever consider the cost?” 

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Uther said, but as he uttered the words, he was looking at the top button of Arthur’s shirt, his eyes trailing down. 

“It will never be yours,” Arthur said, approaching Uther. “Her happiness. You don’t deserve it. Not after what you did to her.” His knees had stopped shaking and he stood up straight, right in front of his father now. 

“It wasn’t supposed to happen,” Uther said with a frown. “I was used! That woman was a radical.” 

“You are twisted,” Arthur said cruelly. “I don’t believe you ever loved Mum.” 

He should have seen it coming, really. The moment he crossed the line. 

Uther decked him straight against his jaw and sent him staggering back and falling down. “I loved your mother more than anything! I always did! She should have loved me enough to give it to me!” Uther’s eyes were wild, and he dove after Arthur, beating against his chest. “It’s mine!” 

Arthur coughed, feeling the air beaten out of him. “Stop! What are you—?” 

“You’re not worth it, if you don’t know how to use it!” Uther said, splaying his hands out on Arthur’s chest. “She shouldn’t have given it to you!” 

Arthur looked up in terror at his father, and at the glow that emanated from his arm. No, from his wrist specifically. The Cartier watch. A bright white light was embedded into the links of the strap. Uther’s hand was trying to dig into his chest, and it was almost the same as when Merlin had…. When Merlin had… “S-stop! I don’t have it.” 

Suddenly Uther went flying back through the room several feet, before landing upside down on one of the couches. Merlin stood poised above Arthur with one hand outstretched and his eyes glowing gold. The air around him was moving in a slow, heavy flow, and it played with his thick black hair. 

“I don’t believe this belongs to you.” Merlin held up the Cartier watch in his other hand. There was still a faint glow emanating from it. 

Uther crawled back to his feet. “No!” He reached out a hand, but he was pushed back again, with less force this time. He staggered and stumbled to the ground.

“Aithusa’s chain,” Arthur said, staring in wonder. “ _You_ had it… all this time.” 

“Give that back this instant,” Uther demanded, holding out his hand. “You mongrel! You don’t know what to do with that!” 

“Oh, don’t I?” Merlin said. 

From his position on the ground, Arthur could see that the coil on Merlin’s side, under his T-shirt, was glowing blue. Uther wouldn’t be able to see it, and Arthur both did and didn’t want Uther to understand the full implications of that. “Don’t… don’t hurt him,” he said to Merlin and scrambled to his feet. 

At that encouragement, Uther approached them, holding out both his hands. “Nimueh enchanted me to do it. I loved Ygraine. I did. Give it back. It’s all I have left of Ygraine,” he said. 

Merlin looked at Arthur, his eyes still fully glowing gold and he snapped at Uther, “Then what is he to you?”

The words Merlin spoke stung. But he didn’t want his father to die. “Please, don’t hurt him. I don’t want Gwen to take you in.” 

“He stole this, Arthur. He is the reason she is dead. That makes him a murderer.” 

Arthur put an arm around Merlin’s waist and a hand on his shoulder. “No, if Nimueh had any hand in this, we know that she would have acted radically.” 

Merlin glared at the man before him, keeping his outstretched hand in place, and said menacingly. “Uther Pendragon, you will never get this back. And you will leave your son alone. He is no longer yours to control with this.” 

Arthur knew that Merlin’s threat was real, the tone of his voice didn’t allow room for arguing. 

“If you think that you will get anything from me, after this,” Uther began. 

“Are you calling my bluff?” Merlin said, raising his hand further. 

“Stop. Father, I don’t want any of your money. Use it to save the company. Build your own castle. I don’t care. I won’t have any part of it. This is my home now.” 

“One week in this godforsaken town, and you think you know what’s best for you?” his father argued. “After _everything_ you’ve received in life. What more could you want?” Uther said, voice quivering as he was reaching the end of his argumentation. 

Arthur looked at his father and put his hand more firmly around Merlin’s waist. “Him,” he said. “And you better believe that he will protect me.”  

Uther balled both his fists and looked at the watch. He pointed at Arthur and said in a filthy tone, “I cannot see you as my son anymore. My lawyers will be in touch with you. You’ve had your chance. You will get _nothing_ , do you hear me?” 

Arthur’s fingers made a fist in Merlin’s side, right over the coil, and he felt how Merlin twitched in result. “Yes, father.” 

Uther stormed out, defeated, and slammed the door in the only display of power he had left. 

Instantly the room felt lighter and Merlin threw his arms around Arthur. Arthur in turn hugged him back tightly and buried his nose in Merlin’s neck. 

“Oh God,” Merlin said. “Arthur, you did it.” 

Arthur rubbed his back gently and pulled back to look in him straight in the eyes, and said, “No, Merlin, you did. You have Aithusa’s chain now. I can’t believe he had it all along. Placed inside a watch.” He looked at the Cartier watch Merlin was holding. “So finely made.” 

“He stole it from her,” Merlin said. “It never gave him much strength. I fear to think what would have happened if it did.”

But Arthur wasn’t listening anymore. He was staring in the distance when the shocking revelation hit him. “It’s Kay.” 

“Arthur?”  

“Merlin, we have to go. It’s Kilgharrah.” 

Merlin looked around the room for the cat. 

“No, Merlin. I mean the real Kilgharrah. And I know exactly who has both his heart and his chain.” 

Merlin gaped at him. “Cornelius Sigan!” 


	25. At the Heart of it All

“Goodness, Merlin,” Gaius said after inspecting the Cartier watch. “You’ve found it. And it is entirely intact.” Right after he spoke, a thick thunderclap sounded in the distance. 

“How do we get it out of the strap?” Merlin asked. 

“I’m not sure.” Gaius had come up to Seren Wen, since neither Merlin or Arthur thought it was quite safe for them to carry Aithusa’s chain anywhere right now. Not with Morgana coven exposed. Now that they knew about Nimueh’s enchantment and her design to harm Ygraine, the stakes were up. 

“Could what Uther said be true?” Gwen asked. She had driven up as well to officially present herself as police, in case any action needed to be taken. “If this woman put a spell on him, could he have harmed the woman he truly loved?” 

Arthur thought about that momentarily, about how happy Ygraine and Uther might have been if Nimueh hadn’t stepped in. If Uther hadn’t… 

Gaius sat down on a creaky chair and looked at Gwen. “I’m afraid it’s possible. It does not entirely absolve him from blame. But he did not set out to kill Ygraine, that is for certain.” 

“But Nimueh is dead,” Gwen said. “The town registry showed she was born in 1893. She must have been very, very old.” 

Arthur shook his head. “No, I think that was the whole point. If her happiness came in the form of youthfulness, then that was what she wanted to obtain from Aithusa’s heart. And my father _is_ guilty. He should never have hidden this from me. He stole mother’s chain, it was never his to have. It was mine.” 

“I’m not too sure about that,” Merlin said. “Uther stole it from Ygraine, not from you. It only works if a relic is given: when it is presented from one person to the next. It might be that Ygraine intended to, but never got round to it. Or perhaps she kept the protection for herself for a while longer, until she knew what was happening.” 

Gaius nodded at that. “I believe that she gave her heart to you, instead of Uther, because she loved you more than him. Perhaps this was something he could not accept.”

Arthur pinched the bridge of his nose. “What could I have done? I was only a baby.” 

“Meanwhile, Uther thought he had you under his power. In truth, these chains don’t do a great deal for a normal person, compared to someone who has magic. Even if they know how to use them. The heart is vastly more powerful.” 

“Then what do we do with it?” Arthur asked. 

Merlin tilted his head. “If we can get it loose from the watch, you can hold onto it if you want to. It will still protect you against harmful magic. Even if it wasn’t given.” 

“How can something like this be kept safe, though? Wherever you put it, someone will come looking, won’t they?” 

Merlin bit his lip and looked at Gaius, who nodded. 

“A long time ago there was a king called Vortigern,” Merlin began. “He understood the power that these relics held. There were dragons in his time too, Balinor and Aithusa ruled the land and the skies. He built a mound, some distance north from here called Dinas Emrys. It is said that there is a place below where the dragon sleeps. That’s not entirely the right translation, closer to the truth would be: ‘where the dragons rest’. It is a place where no mortal can enter. No matter how much they search, the entrance cannot be found.” 

“And you know how to get in?” Arthur asked.

“Not me. Emrys,” Merlin clarified. “I was born in Tintagel, close to the sea. Emrys and I were bound on that day, and Emrys swam from the Dinas so that we could share our existence.” 

“That is what Valiant saw,” Arthur remarked and looked at Merlin wide-eyed. 

Merlin nodded. “Camlot lies in a hot spot between these places, and between another place out at sea, where the veil between the worlds is thin. Right in the middle of three important places. That’s why those with magic are drawn here.” 

Gwen sighed. “Usually everything is quite peaceful here. Honestly. We don’t get much trouble.” 

“We do have a problem now. I believe that Sigan has Kilgharrah’s relics. I want you to look at something for me,” Arthur said and held up his phone to Gwen. “This is a photo of Cedric’s funeral. The man who is speaking is Cornelius Sigan. I want you to send this to Tom and ask him if this is the one who threatened him.”  

“Why do you think that?” Gwen asked him. 

“It’s a far stretch, but I think I know what happened now. There’s only one or two elements I’m still not sure about, but…” 

“Then tell us, please,” Gwen said as she passed the photo on to her father using an app on her phone. 

“Everything started with Nimueh. You are all right, she was an old woman. There is a painting in Morgana’s hall. It must be very old, but it’s definitely of Nimueh. But somehow, she never aged. I don’t know how she did it. Maybe Morgause is doing the same, and Morgana will do the same after her. They are all ruthless women. They pretend that their coven is helping the people, but what they are doing is forcing them to pay for membership. They aren’t really offering much back for that, apart from some training and education.” 

“Is that where my students have gone?” Gaius asked in surprise. 

Merlin put a hand on Gaius’s arm and nodded. 

“It’s prestigious, you know?” Arthur explained. “They see Morgana, her wealth, and her status, and they want something like that for themselves. Out there, in the world I come from, they don’t fit in. They won’t receive praise and respect, like other people, for their special abilities. But they crave it nonetheless. They need a cult like this to feel like they belong.” 

“They shouldn’t,” Merlin complained. “Not like that.” 

“Hear me out, Merlin,” Arthur said. “Nimueh used magic to keep herself young. She might have used the magic of others in order to obtain this. Valiant’s, Edwin’s, and Helen’s.” 

“The last anyone heard of Nimueh was before Helen died, though,” Gwen cut in. “But perhaps she had gone into hiding. Perhaps she had grown old after all.” 

Arthur contemplated. “They might be accidents or they might have been used for the cult. The truth is, I don’t think we will ever find out. If that’s something Nimueh did, or perhaps even Morgana or Morgause. We will never get that information out of them.”

“What about Sigan?” Gwen asked. Another loud crash of thunder broke through the sky.

“Sigan is completely different. I believe he must have magic. And he has the heart and chain that belong to Kilgharrah. Given or stolen, I can’t say.”

“Stolen,” Merlin said. “It must be! Kilgharrah has been missing for hundreds of years.” 

“Nevertheless, he is dangerous.” Arthur looked at everyone in the room one by one. “Sigan knows exactly what he wants. Status is the most important thing in life to him. But he played it smart. He left Camlot and resisted the urge to return. He built an empire trading diamonds and other jewelry, and he hid the fact that he is wearing something special around his neck at all times. I saw the glint of it, just at his collar, and I already thought it looked remarkable. I believe it must be Kilgharrah.” 

“After all this time,” Gaius remarked. 

“Then he found out about the heart,” Merlin said. 

“Yes, he put Cedric to work to figure it out.” Arthur was pacing the room and trying put the pieces together. “Cedric needed information. So, he asked some people he thought he could trust. Like Eira. Only what he didn’t know was that Eira had only just enrolled into the coven. She was an initiate. 

“Eira was upset at Gwaine…” he paused and decided not to say anything more about that. “So, she gravitated towards Cedric. I think she probably never suspected that she would start to fall in love with him, or that he would have feelings for her either. But she must have told the coven about him, and they must have made a plan to intercept the theft.” 

“Cedric would never have made it out alive,” Gwen said. 

“He never even knew what was coming for him,” Gaius sighed. 

“So, Cedric went into the shop and the killer stopped him. But they weren’t powerful enough to open the cellar by themselves. By the time they would have gone for help, Gaius had already discovered that the shop was open, and Merlin had taken the relic away. Whether they know it’s gone or not, it doesn’t matter. The shop is on lockdown and they can’t get to it.” 

“Then who is the killer?” Gwen asked. 

Arthur took a deep breath. “The only person that has all the connections. One of the younger people with magic, and part of the cult. Another initiate, not powerful yet. Someone who used to smoke with Cedric all the time and shared information. The bastet attacked right outside his house, too.” 

“ _Mordred_?!” Merlin said aghast. “I don’t believe it! He’s not the bastet, you said that yourself. Besides, he called Gaius to come and get you!” 

“Perhaps he feels remorseful or guilty for what he’s done! I saw how he grabbed your arm at the funeral, Merlin.” 

“He wanted to know if you were here for magic at all, but he couldn’t ask you directly.” 

“So, what did you tell him?” Arthur asked. “Because that’s exactly what he asked me the first time I arrived in Camlot. Whether I was here to find something or not. He knows _something._ ” 

“I don’t believe it,” Merlin said. 

“What, you are friends now all of a sudden?” 

“Yeah, we’re friends!” Merlin said. “I don’t believe he could kill Cedric. I just don’t.” 

“He’s treated you terribly!” 

“He’s just had a tough life,” Merlin said, looking down. “Not much different from mine.” 

“Merlin,” Gaius said. “We will have to wait for some proof, before Gwen can do anything. Until then we must keep an open mind.” 

“And there is still a problem,” Gwen said. “Who or what is the bastet and why did it attack Eira?” 

“It’s _not_ Mordred,” Merlin complained. 

“I know,” Arthur said gently. “I’m pretty sure it’s not Mordred. But by your own deduction, Merlin, it would have to mean that it’s Freya.” 

“Maybe Freya is the one who killed Cedric as well?” Gaius proposed, while he tried to winch the chain free from the watch. The winds outside began to rattle the windows, announcing the arrival of a great storm. 

“Perhaps, but perhaps not,” Gwen said, looking at her phone. “But we have a bigger problem right now.” 

“What’s that?” Merlin asked. 

“My father just identified Cornelius Sigan as the person who attacked him six years ago,” Gwen said. 

“And he hasn’t left town yet. That means he still believes he has a chance to get his hands on the heart,” Arthur said. 

“We’ve got to move now,” Gwen said. 

“Wait. Against Sigan? We don’t even know how strong he is,” Merlin said. “It’s too dangerous.” 

“I have to do _something_ ,” Gwen said. “This is new information. I can’t just sit on it.” 

“I’ve got it!” Gaius exclaimed and handed Arthur the chain of Aithusa. ”You must keep this near you at all times, Arthur.” 

Arthur’s fingers closed around it and it was almost as if he could feel the softness of his mother in them. He wasn’t sure if that was what he felt, but it felt good, and it gave him confidence. “If Mordred is the killer, and if he attacked Cedric, it’s only a matter of time before Sigan will make the same conclusion. We have to find Mordred right away.”  

Gwen was already at the door. “Let’s start at the pub.” 

  
  


*** 

It was raining. It was always bloody raining. There hadn’t been a proper winter in nearly two hundred years. A real one that stopped the world and everyone in it for weeks. One so thoroughly deep that reserves finished and morale waned, promising higher stakes at trading markets in the two or three years that followed. Those winters would give him an extra edge. How he had longed for one of those again. 

Of course times were different now. The death of a horse on a slippery mountain road wouldn’t block trade for days. The wells freezing shut wouldn’t keep people from much needed fresh water. And most annoying of all, people were happy. 

He drove through town in his car, simultaneously appeased at not being part of the outside world, and profoundly needing to put his stamp on it at the same time. He always knew what to do at the right time. There was no one who had stopped him yet. 

After parking his car in a small side street, Sigan stepped out. He was wearing a fine suit as usual, and a tailor-made overcoat, the ocelot-fur collar keeping him warm. He walked across the village square, but at the last moment stepped aside, as a car screeched around the corner and parked itself in front of the pub. 

The pub was alive with people from the village. Several smokers were standing outside, sheltering under the edge of the roof, and some of them yelled at the large BMW which now blocked almost the entire street. Three car doors opened at once. 

Sigan kept to the shadows and looked on as Arthur Pendragon stepped out, the boy who sought to challenge his authority. He was joined by the police constable, the young woman who who had stepped in to fill her father’s role when he could not. And there was someone else there, someone he didn’t know to place, wearing a bright red scarf. 

“Mordred!” Gwen called out. 

One of the smokers, wearing a thin black hoodie and dark gray skinny jeans, in the cool night air, stayed outside while the others went back indoors. Sigan held his breath and listened. 

“Oh, piss off,” the reply of the smoker came. “I had nothing to do with his death! You’re all out of your mind!” 

“What about Eira, huh?” Arthur said. 

“Arthur, let me do the talking,” Gwen hissed, loudly enough for everyone in the street to overhear. 

Mordred lifted his hands. “Or how about you _don’t_ talk! You have no idea what’s going on, so stay out of it!” 

“So you do in fact know what’s going on?” Gwen asked sharply. 

“No, I don’t,” Mordred said. It was an outright lie and everyone involved knew it. “But neither do you!” Arthur balled his fists in response and the young man with the red scarf shuffled his feet uncomfortably. 

“Listen, Mordred,” Gwen began, “The evidence is stacking overwhelmingly against you. If you know anything about the night Cedric was murdered, you should tell us now.” 

“I’m not saying anything.” The thick rains got heavier and a flash of thunder lit everything up for several seconds, followed by a thick cracking roll of thunder. 

This time the one with the scarf stepped forward and said in a much softer tone. “The other day, you helped us. You called Gaius, right? That was you?” 

“Don’t think anything of it,” Mordred said. “Percy was walking right down the lane near the mansion, and I think he might have seen Arthur being taken inside. The risk was too big, I couldn’t let them take the fall if they did anything too drastic.” 

“Too drastic?” Arthur barked. “Like what? _Slightly_ murder me?” 

“You’re not that important, okay?” Mordred snapped. “Get over yourself already!”

“Everything you’re saying here is going on record, Mordred. You should know that. What I need from you is one piece of evidence, anything, to show that you were not involved in killing Cedric.” 

“Then you had better arrest me,” Mordred said. “Maybe I did it after all. Maybe I gave Cedric the map to open Gaius’s storage, because the last time he used it, I overheard him when he thought he was alone. And maybe Cedric took it with him, to try and open it.” 

Arthur remembered that that was what Tom had said. Cedric had had a spell with the entrance to Gaius’s secret storage. 

“And then, just maybe… you killed him,” Sigan said in a low, menacing voice,, emerging from the shadows. So, _this_ was the child who had done it. Who had destroyed the chance of obtaining the dragon’s heart. He walked up to them casually and summoned his powers. 

All four of them spun around in surprise, just as two more clouds collided in a cacophony over their heads. 

Gwen held her hand over the strap of her gun. “Mister Sigan, I suggest you stay where you are.” 

“Get out of here,” Merlin urged, putting his hands in front of Arthur on one side and Gwen on the other. 

Mordred wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and glared at him. That was, until he cast the first spell and made the ground under their feet rumble. That’s when Mordred started becoming afraid. He turned and ran. 

“Don’t even think about it, kid,” Sigan said. “You’re not going anywhere.” 


	26. Crashes

The storm raged on and Arthur felt himself getting drenched in moments when it properly broke loose. It made the man before them seem even more menacing. Now that Arthur was certain that Sigan had magic, the pieces were on the table but Arthur still didn’t know how high the stakes were. He was frightened. But he could never show a man like that that he was. Never. 

“I’m not going anywhere,” Arthur said, even as Merlin pushed him back. 

“Arthur, get in the car,” Gwen urged. 

“No!” He felt the chain of Aithusa bound around his wrist and it made him confident. He had tied it around his right wrist, so that his hands were free. This time, he wanted to be prepared, able to actually move if something happened. He couldn’t freeze up again. Together, they could corner Sigan if they all stayed alert. 

That was, if the man didn’t also have powerful magic. Sigan stood securely on the trembling earth, his eyes glowed green and the rain falling down on him was blown aside by the immense radiation of his strength, gathered in front of him into a glowing red ball. 

Suddenly, a magical whip made of glowing red material shot out of Sigan’s hand and grabbed hold of Mordred’s limbs, before he had even made it across the street. Sigan yanked the chain back and Mordred went screaming into the darkness, crying out for help. 

Without a second thought, Arthur ran after him. Merlin and Gwen followed closely behind. 

They heard Mordred screaming and followed the sound. Sigan was dragging him to the village square, and Mordred was fighting back, cutting through the restraints with his own magic. When the whip finally let go of his ankles, Mordred stumbled straight through a puddle and ran towards Arthur, Merlin and Gwen. 

“Help me! I didn’t do it!” Mordred’s eyes were wide in panic. There were burn marks around his wrists where the magical whip had scorched into his skin. 

He hadn’t even made it halfway across the square before a blast of power collided against the back of his head and he flew several feet, before roughly colliding with the ground, rolling and lying still. 

Merlin rushed to Mordred’s motionless form. “He’s alive,” he gasped. “Only just. We need to get help.” 

“You cannot stop me,” Sigan growled at them. He seemed engulfed in an aura of sparkling and swirling magic. “Turn back now and I will let you keep your lives,” he warned. 

“Never!” Arthur shouted at Sigan. 

“Arthur,” Merlin said softly. “You should take Gwen and get out of here. You can’t face a sorcerer like this.” 

“I can’t… If Mordred didn’t do it, then I can’t step away from this. We came here to help him!” 

Gwen stepped ahead of the two of them with her gun aimed at Sigan. 

“Oh, ho ho, little fledgling. A gun cannot hurt me!” He cast another spell and the aura he created became a solid shape in front of him, like a silver shield. 

Gwen fired a test shot, and the bullet was embedded into the aura, without penetrating. “Stand down, mister Sigan. You are outnumbered!” 

Instead of doing any such thing, Sigan began to walk forward to where Mordred was lying knocked out, close to the fountain in the middle of the square. Overhead the storm raged on. 

“Merlin,” Arthur said, “What do we do?” 

“People are going to see…” Merlin said. “The magic, it shouldn’t be this open.” 

“I don’t think we have any choice, Merlin,” Arthur said. He understood Merlin’s apprehension. But if anyone could do anything, it certainly wouldn’t be Gwen or Arthur himself. 

When the next lightning bolt lit up overhead, a great winged shadow was cast over Sigan. The thunder cracked in a deafening explosion. 

Arthur turned to look at Merlin. He stared, because Merlin was still standing next to him. For a split-second, he had imagined that it was the shape of a dragon. He craned his neck and looked up through the rain at what he might expect to come from above. This didn’t make any sense at all! 

A screech and a swoop of black shadow flew down towards Sigan with high speed, wings flapping and claws outstretched. It had knocked Sigan back to the ground before Arthur had even been able to form the word ‘bastet’ in his mind. 

The panther-like creature flew back up again and prepared for another attack. Gwen had already rushed forward and was dragging Mordred out of the way. 

“Shit shit shit,” Merlin swore, looking around. Here and there villagers who lived at the square were gathering at their windows, looking out over the spectacle. The church door in the distance was open, Father Elyan and Vivian looked on in shock. People at the bar had started to pour out and were making their way over. 

Then at the next bastet attack their collision ended in a blast. Sigan had been prepared this time and the bastet was knocked away, hitting the side of a wall. It got to its feet quickly again, and attacked once more. 

“Stop!” Merlin called out and ran forward, blocking the path. The bastet paused momentarily to look at Merlin. 

“You stupid kid!” Sigan shouted. He was casting a spell and it was hurled directly towards the bastet, with Merlin poised in its path. 

Merlin spun around and looked straight at the ball of magic that had been hurled straight in his direction. 

“Merlin!!” Arthur shouted at the top of his lungs. 

Merlin lifted his hands. 

The ground shook and the bastet screeched, flying up and narrowly escaping the impact of the blast. Its strong wings beat and it soared through the sky angrily, claws outstretched and ready to find a weak point in Sigan’s defences. 

Merlin was gone. 

Arthur stared out at the place where the ball of power had gone straight through him. He panicked and ran forward. This couldn’t be happening. 

A hand grabbed his wrist. 

Gwen. 

“Don’t go out there, Arthur. You can’t fight this!” 

“Let go!” he shouted at Gwen. She pulled her hand back as if she had been burned. Smoke arose from her palm. Arthur looked at the shining chain around his wrist, and lowered his sleeve over it. “I’m sorry… I didn’t think it would—” 

“Arthur,” she interrupted. “Look!” 

Several people pointed to the sky. Gwen did too. 

Emerging from the cloud cover was the undulating blue shape of a wingless serpent, descending through the air, carrying itself on the downpour of rain and snaking towards the village square. It soared right over the bronze statue on top of the fountain and crashed into Sigan with a brutal roar. 

Gwen insisted. “We have to get out of here. I’m calling for backup. Come with me!” 

“I can’t, Gwen. I can’t…” Merlin. Merlin was gone from his spot, but was he safe? Arthur couldn’t think straight. If Emrys was here, it meant he wasn’t dead? Or did it signify that he was?

Gwen looked at him fiercely and nodded. She handed Mordred over to Percy who had come running out, more bravely than any other townsperson, when he saw that Mordred had been wounded. 

“Take him inside, stay indoors. Tell everyone to stay indoors,” Gwen said, staying sharp even in the midst of panic. “Call my father. Call Gaius, and tell Lance. No, don’t tell Lance. He can’t leave the clinic unguarded. Not yet.” 

“Yes,” Percy said. “Right away.” 

Arthur heard their exchange, but wasn’t registering the words. He only stared at how the dragon and bastet were joining their attack on Sigan. 

And Sigan was holding both of them off, easily it seemed, with blasts of magic. Each impact made the ground tremble, newly formed puddles swirling in furious response. While the collisions with the magical beasts were brutal and shocking, Sigan seemed unharmed. He almost looked like he was enjoying himself. 

“You are weak!” Sigan shouted. He aimed his next surprise attack directly at the bastet. A loud burst indicated the spell hit home, and the bastet fell back, landed on the patch of grass in front of the church and didn’t get up. 

That meant that Sigan had its full attention on Emrys. 

“Stop!” Arthur shouted and ran forward. From the corner of his eye he saw that Elyan was getting out of the church and began dragging the large body of the bastet inside. Arthur had no time to question it. “Sigan, listen to me!” 

A roar in his direction. It was Emrys, standing on four short legs, and with his giant maw close to the ground. Smoking air came out of his nostrils and the fierce, glowing golden eyes seemed to warn him. They were not the same as Merlin’s. This wasn’t Merlin. He had to know that. 

“I have to!” Arthur explained to the creature. He advanced on Sigan, feeling the magic around his wrist more tightly with each step. “You will never get to the heart!” 

Sigan gave Arthur a sneer. “None of you are strong enough to stop me!” He sent a moderately small blast towards Arthur, which was sure to disintegrate him on the spot. Arthur he ducked behind the fountain. “If you think I haven’t thought about how to stop you, Emrys, you are vastly mistaken.” 

Arthur looked at the dragon’s reaction. It was calculating its next move, claws embedded into the stones of the old square, blue hue reflecting off its wet scales. Its body was constantly in motion, as if swaying to the movement of the storm overhead. 

“Come on, Emrys, you can do this!” Arthur whispered. 

Sigan opened the top of his jacket and pulled the top button of his shirt open. What Arthur could see was that the golden chain was around his neck, and attached to it was a large red stone set in a gold fitting. And Arthur gaped, because the fitting was embedded into Sigan’s chest. They were undoubtedly Kilgharrah’s relics.

Emrys roared in anger, matched simultaneously by more thunder overhead. He lifted his body up, gathering water around him. Everything about the dragon’s scaly figure bristled and shuddered furiously. 

And Sigan was _smiling_. In his hands a spell was forming, and his eyes didn’t blaze green this time, but red. 

“No, don’t!” Arthur shouted, but it was too late. 

Emrys took a leap and shot straight into his next attack. Kilgharrah’s magic shot out out of the stone at Sigan’s chest and hurled Emrys towards the fountain. 

“You fell right into my trap!” Sigan shouted with glee. 

Arthur jumped back as Emrys’s body crashed into the fountain. Only a moment later, the whole fountain froze over when Sigan’s spell hit it. Within seconds, the whole body of water was turned into a block of ice, the surface cracking in protest at its sudden expansion. 

“Merlin?” Arthur’s voice was small. 

He looked at the ice in the fountain, brushing away the loose ice shavings on the surface, and he saw the shape of a dragon in it, but it was too dark to see anything in particular. 

“Emrys?” he tried again. 

“Don’t look so stupid, boy. If you are the essence of water, the only thing that will lock you in forever will be ice. His own body will be destroying itself from the inside out.” Sigan cackled cruelly. 

“No, this can’t be happening,” Arthur said, looking up at the statue on top of the fountain helplessly. 

Sigan laughed menacingly and approached. He sneered as he saw Tom arrive to the scene, in his police outfit, as he came to stand next to Gwen. 

“I waited a long time for this!” Tom said. 

“You fools! When will you learn? I have both the chain and the heart, you will never defeat me!” 

Arthur could see more clearly now how the heart was almost fully embedded into his flesh, right at his solar plexus. What sort of monstrous surgery Sigan must have undergone to embed something into his body boggled Arthur’s mind. It still didn’t make it real, though. Kilgharrah’s power would have been greater if the relics had been given to him. This contraption told Arthur that they certainly had not been. It would have been properly inside of him, if it had been a gift. Merlin had been right. 

Percy and Gwaine gathered behind Tom to show him support. Percy carried a rake and Gwaine had brought a hunting rifle. 

Gwen gaped at Gwaine. “You and I are going to have a little chat after this.” 

“I have a hunting permit,” Gwaine said. “I’m not letting this bastard ruin our town!” 

“Stay back! You could all get hurt!” Gwen shouted, urging both Percy and Gwaine out of the way.  

“You are all weak! I will take what is mine, and then I will kill you all!” Sigan said and placed one of his boots on the edge of the fountain. 

Arthur clambered behind the statue and hid from view. He was freezing up again from fear. 

“You will not take anything!” Tom shouted and approached the sorcerer. 

“Your guns won’t hurt me!” Sigan said, and began gathering his energy. 

“No, but this might,” Tom ran forward and shot a taser, which clipped itself to Sigan’s body. 

The electrical shock actually pushed Sigan away from the fountain and knocked him off his feet. The man shouted in disdain and clambered up, plucking the cords off his body after the shock had passed. “You will pay for this!” 

Arthur feared for each second for Merlin’s life as the dragon was suffocating and dying in the ice. There was nothing he could do. He could not thaw ice, he had no such power. But there had to be _something_. He looked up at the bronze statue again. It was of a man with a shield and a metal sword. The man stood in a large shell, and from the shell flowed the water, now a single flow of ice. 

Sigan was looking away from Arthur, preoccupied with casting a missile of power in Tom’s direction. 

Tom steeled himself, he was ready for what was to come. But it didn’t come. 

The bolt swerved and aimed straight for Gwen. Gwen was hit full on. Sigan stomped on the ground, and a crack opened in the earth, swallowing her into darkness. 

“No!” Tom shouted and dove towards his daughter. He looked at the gaping hole of darkness that had opened in the middle of the town square. There was nothing to see. “Gwen??” 

Arthur felt sick to his stomach. If Gwen and Merlin were both gone, what chance did he stand? And yet, there was something right here. It was the only thing. He used the uneven ice to climb up, reached up and took a hold of the sword hilt. As he stretched his arm, the glowing chain around his wrist became visible. 

It caught Sigan’s attention. “You!”

And worse, the sword wasn’t budging. 

_Fuck_ , Arthur thought. 

Sigan held out his hand to attack Arthur, his eyes wide and deranged as he saw the chain of Aithusa and needed to have it right away. 

Arthur steeled himself and shouted as he tried with all his might to get the sword out. 

Fate struck at that moment when lightning connected with the sword. In an instant everything was hot, loud, and bright. Arthur felt the current passing over his body, through his body. He felt the magic of the chain envelope him, but it wasn’t enough. Not entirely. His teeth chattered and his ears rung from the impact. 

When he came to his senses, he was holding the sword. The blade was glowing red hot with the energy of the lightning. Sigan had been knocked back by the strike. He scrambled upright, his only focus being the chain around Arthur’s wrist. He could see the man’s twisted longing to have its power for himself. 

Arthur roared and stuck the glowing sword into the ice with all his might. 


	27. Broken

The ice began to crack, protesting at the temperature change. The chain’s magic flowed over the sword in a curling swirl and added its power to the sword’s force. Moments later, all the ice burst out and upwards. Arthur only barely got out of the way. 

Sigan hadn’t seen it coming. The dragon flew upwards, twisting and turning in agony as it was trying to remove the shattering effects of the ice on its body. Its golden eyes rolled in its head, and its body jerked. 

“No!!” Sigan said. He seemed conflicted now, having the choice between defeating Emrys, and immediately obtaining Aithusa’s chain. His momentary lack of decisiveness would prove the only opening they had. 

Arthur charged forward and aimed the sword at Sigan’s chest, trying to wedge out the stone from his plexus. It wouldn’t budge. 

Sigan shouted and surged, trying to knock Arthur away. Arthur hooked his feet around Sigan’s legs and when the blast came to push him away, he used it as leverage. 

Then suddenly the feeling of magic in the air changed. The chain and the heart of Kilgharrah went flying through the air. It bounced onto the ground once, twice, and fell into the open gap in the earth, into the darkness below. 

“What have you done??” Sigan shouted. His voice sounded different now. 

Arthur stared at the man in front of him. No, not a man, not anymore. Not for a long time. He saw the increasing age creep up on Sigan, changing his figure. Sigan collapsed onto the ground in front of Arthur, there was no longer any force behind his moves. “What are you?” 

Sigan grabbed hold of Arthur’s trouser leg and his arm trembled as he did so. “How can a stupid boy defeat me? I took the stone from Balinor myself! I am the greatest!” As he spoke, his teeth started falling out of his mouth one by one and his skin turned ashen. When his eyelids withered away, Arthur turned his head away. 

“You are defeated,” Arthur said. Percy and Gwaine cautiously came closer and looked on with similar horror. 

That ugly laugh racked through Sigan’s form. “I see you for what you are now. Kill me. Put an end to it.” 

“No,” Arthur said. “You think you know me. You know nothing about me at all.” 

As Sigan aged further, the last strength in his limbs faded away. He let go of Arthur’s trousers shakily with his thin, grey fingers. His whole body shuddered as it became a living skeleton. His stomach caved in and his skin fell open in patches of rot. He already had no more hair left, and his lips were reduced to black scabs of taut skin. 

Arthur didn’t move away. He couldn’t. It was all he had left to offer. He looked past Sigan to the dragon who stood nearby. The bloodied and wounded blue dragon, that was there for all the village to see. 

When Arthur looked down again, he saw a pile of bones in an expensive coat, and soon even those were crumbled to dust, carried in the winds. 

It had stopped raining. 

Arthur, soaked and shivering, held onto the sword hilt and took a deep breath. He stepped forward and approached Emrys. 

Emrys took several steps back and snapped with its long sharp teeth at him. A deep roar filled the village square. 

Arthur put the sword on the ground and held up his hands. “You know who I am. You protected me once before, remember?” He held up his wrist and showed the glowing white chain. “See?” 

The dragon calmed down somewhat, tail swishing. 

After several more careful steps, Arthur was close to it at last. He smelled ozone and the blood coming out of the dragon’s wounds. “Thank you,” he said. “I don’t know if anyone ever had the chance to say so.” 

The dragon’s golden eyes didn’t seem quite so frenzied anymore. It didn’t growl anymore either, simply panting at him, occasionally baring teeth. 

At last, Arthur touched the dragon’s nose. It flinched briefly, but then stayed where it was. Arthur ran his hand over the creature’s scaled nose. It was wet, and cool. It felt solid under his hand, completely real. And he knew that part of this creature was Merlin somehow. That perhaps Merlin was in there. 

“All this time, did you know that Merlin was afraid that I would leave? I think that perhaps I was more afraid of him leaving. People have been leaving me all my life. Tell me he is okay? I want him back. Tell me something. Please?” he pleaded to the dragon quietly. 

“Arthur!” It was Tom’s voice. “She’s alive. Help us!”

Arthur looked aside. He saw that Tom, Gwaine, and Percy were throwing down ropes to the gap in the ground. The gap where Gwen had fallen into. He knew that he had to help. There was no other way. Gwen’s life was certain. 

He swallowed and looked at the dragon again. “Take this, please. Keep it safe. The Dinas, or somewhere else. It’s yours.” He took the chain off of his wrist and placed it inside the dragon’s open maw. 

When the maw didn’t bite his hand off, he turned and ran. He sped to the opened crack in the earth and with the last of his strength he helped Gwen emerge from the dark gap below. Percy and Gwaine heaved, and struggled, as Gwen navigated the sharp rock edges and slowly emerged. 

People were shouting with mad elation when she was at the surface once more. Tom whooped in delight. Arthur was sick with panic, both delighted at Gwen’s appearance, and dismal at Merlin’s absence. 

When he turned to look back over the village square, the dragon was gone. 

He soon learned that Leon had driven Mordred to Lance’s practice, and that Mordred was now free of suspicion. Tom came over and shook his hand. “You’ve done well for yourself. You can be proud.” 

Arthur took Tom’s hand and nodded. He didn’t feel proud at all, but he bit his tears away and nodded. He was soaked anyway. No one would know. When Percy and Gwaine clapped him on the back, he only barely held it together.

When Gwen was on her feet again, she thanked everyone and gathered the villagers around. She told it to them straight. What they had seen was magic. “It has always existed. Some of you might already know about it. The outside world would never understand. If you have questions, you can talk to Gaius tomorrow. In the meantime, know that you are safe once more.” 

Arthur marvelled at Gwen’s words. It made him feel a vast deal better. The dark cloud didn’t leave his mind, though. Not even when they walked over to the police station, where Arthur sat down with Gwen, Gaius, and Tom to explain what he had seen. 

“So, Sigan was that old?” Gaius asked quietly. “Because Balinor was the last known person to be shared with Kilgharrah, and he perished nearly three hundred years ago, I believe.” 

Arthur nodded. He found it strange that nobody asked where Merlin was, or what had happened to him. Perhaps they hadn’t seen how the bolt went straight for him. Gwen had been further back, and many others hadn’t been on the scene yet. Perhaps they had no idea that he had been in danger. He rubbed his face and tried to focus. 

Arthur tried to focus, which was hard with all of his clothes being soaked and his hands shivering. “I bet that Sigan told Nimueh the trick to staying youthful. And Nimueh tried to attack Aithusa in order to do the same. She wasn’t counting on Uther’s greed, or Ygraine’s pure love. I assume that Nimueh’s powers eventually ran out, and she ended up the same way as Sigan did, a pile of dust.” 

Gwen rubbed her belly absentmindedly. “Unfortunately, that still means we don’t know who killed Cedric. We now know it certainly couldn’t have been Sigan.” 

But before they could dive into that, there was a knock at the door. Tom got up and opened it to Father Elyan. 

Elyan stepped inside with a very defeated looking Freya at his side. “She’s alright now,” Elyan said. 

“You mean she is the…?” Arthur started. 

Father Elyan held up a hand and interrupted him. “Don’t say it. I have blessed her, and she should be fine.” 

“You don’t know anything,” Freya said. “I won’t be fine as long as I am bound.” 

Elyan pat her shoulder and offered her a seat. “I know what we just saw, and I don’t want to dismiss it. But the Lord looks after everyone, that includes you.” 

Arthur decided to stay quiet at that, his mouth tasting of ash. 

“What do you mean? How are you bound?” Tom asked her, his voice gentle. 

Freya looked away. “You were going to arrest Mordred, weren’t you? He’s never done anything wrong.” 

“We’re not going to arrest him,” Gwen said quickly. “We think he gave Cedric some information. But nothing that directly led him to his death.” 

“You are so _stupid_ ,” Freya spat. “You still don’t know who did it, after all this time?” 

“Was it you?” Tom asked in all seriousness. “You attacked Eira, we know that much. But did you kill Cedric?” 

She laughed at them. “You can’t see anything. And I can’t tell you anything. Those are the rules.” 

Arthur perked up. “But if we already make the conclusions for ourselves, then you can confirm them, can’t you?” That’s as much as he had learned. 

Freya eyed him sideways, clearly distrusting what he just said. 

He started thinking. “So, you are the bastet. And you attacked Sigan, tonight, right?” 

“Shut up,” Freya said. 

“I’m going to take that as a yes,” Arthur pushed. “You got hurt. But not seriously. Am I right?” 

“You think you’re being clever?” she sneered. 

“Arthur, you should let her calm down,” Father Elyan said with a frown. 

“No, no, I got this. Freya, you are part of Morgana’s coven. I know you pay for membership. So…” he racked his brain for the types of conclusions that he could utter, that she would be able to answer. “So, that means, Morgana and Morgause are your leaders.” 

“Morgana is,” Freya said. “I don’t like Morgause.” 

“So, someone from the coven bound you, is that it?” 

Her eyes widened. “You are just saying that, aren’t you? You want me to give them up, don’t you? I won’t betray them!” 

Gwen sighed. “They put you up to the attack, didn’t they?”  
  


“For the last time, I am bound!” Freya shouted. She lifted her foot, and there was a metal manacle tied to her ankle. 

“So what does this mean?” Tom asked. 

“No, we can’t ask about it. We have to figure it out,” Arthur explained. “She can’t tell us anything because she is bound. Essentially the magic won’t allow her. I went through all of this before. I’m going to assume that you were bound by Morgause then,” Arthur said. 

Freya sighed. “She offered me power.” 

“And you got power. You are a bastet. The manacle does that.” 

Freya bit her lip. She hadn’t expected any of this. “I… I didn’t want anything like this. Nothing so destructive.” 

Arthur pointed at it. “May I?” 

Freya nodded. 

He picked up her ankle and studied it. There was a large lock to it with symbols around it. “There is a key to this,” Arthur said. 

“Morgause promised me I would never find it,” Freya said. “She lost in on purpose.” 

“What if we found it for you?” Arthur suggested. “Would you tell us what you know about Cedric?” 

“It would mean betraying the coven!” 

“You were sent to kill Eira,” Gwen said. “I think you might need to reconsider whether you share their values.” 

“And then what?” she asked. 

“Then,” Father Elyan picked up her hand. “Then you’ve helped us. It will be a time of redemption. Something tells me you are not the only one stuck in this. Your friend Mordred faced the same, didn’t he?” 

“Only Mordred already picked a side,” Arthur said. “He already broke through his own chains, didn’t he?” 

Freya wiped her cheeks, shivering. “I just want to be strong. I don’t want to feel like this anymore.” 

Arthur turned to Gwen. “Can you get us the box with Cedric’s things?” 

Gwen lifted an eyebrow and got up. “I see,” she said. 

Moments later Gwen returned with a large silver key with a fishing lure attached to it. “Lance told me that Cedric fished this out of the lake. If Cedric was indeed good at finding things, perhaps he found this. Only he never knew what it belonged to. Now, I don’t know if this will work, but if it does, will it mean you are free from being a bastet?” 

Freya shook her head. “I don’t know. I’m scared…” 

Father Elyan was still holding her hand and squeezed it. “Trust me, we fear both outcomes. But right now, we are thinking about what is best for you. And for closing the case. These two things are our main concerns.” 

“Fine,” she said. She held Father Elyan’s hand and shook as Gwen lifted her ankle and turned the manacle around. 

“I don’t even know if it’s the right key, but we’re just trying, alright?” Gwen said. “If you notice anything, and you want me to stop, I will stop, alright?” 

Freya nodded. 

Gwen forced the key down the hole and turned it. 

It clicked. 

The shackle came off and fell to the ground in a loud thud, that had a strange ring to it, something melodic as if it didn’t belong. 

Freya started shaking uncontrollably and took a deep breath. 

Arthur sat on the edge of his seat. “I can drive you to Lance’s practice after this, I believe he can examine you.” 

“No!” Freya said, “Not there!” 

“Why not?” Arthur asked. 

Freya looked straight up at him, wide eyed. “That’s where the killer is.” 


	28. Confessions

Arthur parked his car with screeching tires outside of Lance’s practice. Arthur’s stomach was rumbling, but he didn’t care about that. He was still too much in shock to respond to his body’s immediate needs. 

“We have _got_ to talk about your parking habits after this, Arthur,” Gwen complained as she popped the door open. She climbed out of the car and ran inside. 

Arthur ignored her comment. They hadn’t wanted him to drive because of the state he was in, but he had insisted. He followed her, together with Tom. When they entered, Gwen was already talking to Lance about their need to speak to Eira. 

“She needs her rest,” Lance said. “I don’t think you should disturb her.” 

Arthur mused. After all that Eira had done, a little disturbing was perhaps exactly what she needed. Earlier, Gwen had dismissed the possibility of Eira being the killer on account of her being attacked. But clearly there was more to it. 

“We just need to check if our lead is correct,” Gwen said. “It can’t wait, we’re running out if time.” 

Lance sighed and nodded. “But I’ll be there with you, so that I can monitor her.” 

Gwen nodded and asked. “How is Mordred doing?” 

“I gave him painkillers, he has a broken clavicle and a concussion, but he’ll be alright,” Lance said. “What about this one?” he pointed at Arthur. 

“I’m fine,” Arthur said quickly. 

“You have burn marks in your hair, and you’re shaking. Follow me.” 

“He was struck by lightning,” Gwen said, giving Arthur a hard stare.

“We don’t have time for this,” Arthur said. 

Lance gave him a look, one that mirrored Gwen’s in a way that Arthur found no way to contest, and he followed Lance to the recovery ward with a petulant sigh.

Mordred was lying on the bed on the far side of the room, fast asleep. Eira was directly on the left and still being monitored. Upon seeing both Gwen and Tom, the latter in his police outfit, she had the decency to look afraid. Arthur was brought to the bed opposite Eira and asked to remove his jacket, shirt, socks and shoes. 

“We have received a statement that you are the one who attacked and killed Cedric Meyers, on December 16th, after he attempted to break into Gaius’s cellar to steal a dragonheart gemstone,” Gwen said officially. “I’ve come here to arrest you.” 

Eira’s look was one of filth. “You think I would kill someone I loved?” 

“I know you abuse your husband,” Gwen said without even blinking. 

“Only when he’s really stupid! He’s a moron.” 

Arthur was given a thorough examination of his limbs, ears, and teeth. Lance even took a sharp tool to prick into each of his toes to find nerve damage. Meanwhile Arthur listened to Eira and Gwen talk. 

“Gwaine may well file complaints against you. I suggest you are open and honest with us about your dealing with Cedric.” 

“Are you experiencing any remaining effects?” Lance’s calm voice interrupted Arthur’s eavesdropping. 

“Yeah, my ears are ringing. And I’m very low on energy, but that’s normal right?” he asked Lance hopefully. 

Within moments Lance had attached a drip to Arthur’s arm to give him fluids, and had two chocolate bars placed next to him. “I want you to concentrate on staying warm now,” Lance said. “I don’t see any lasting effects. I think you got lucky because of all the water around you, and the statue absorbed a great deal. I can’t explain otherwise how you got away so unscathed. Your tinnitus will go away in a few days, I expect. Let me know if it lasts longer than that.” 

Arthur accepted the thick night robe he was offered and took the chocolate. He was pretty sure the water wasn’t what had ensured his survival, but Aithusa’s chain. 

“I won’t tell you anything!” Eira was saying. 

Once he felt some energy return, Arthur pulled the trolley with his drip along and came to stand next to Eira’s bed. 

“You were under orders,” Arthur told her. “And it’s killing you, isn’t it?” 

Eira glared at him but said nothing. 

“Morgana and Morgause keep a tight ship. Morgause especially. If you don’t do exactly what they want, there are consequences. That’s why several people in your coven already had to ‘pick a side’. Either you are with them or you are against them. We’re looking at the wrong person here, Gwen. Eira is the killer, but she didn’t sign Cedric’s death warrant. There is no way she would have done that.” 

“It was still Eira who did the deed,” Gwen argued. 

“Now I see why Gwaine’s van was at the mansion,” Arthur said. “It was bugging me so much. I thought that Gwaine was visiting Morgana. But they don’t get along at all. Gwaine knows you’re under pressure, doesn’t he? He lets you take it out on him. Because you are ambitious, and you want to prove yourself. I know what that’s like, trust me,” Arthur concluded. 

“You’re out of your mind,” Eira said. 

“You said it yourself,” Arthur countered. “Cedric didn’t deserve it. The fact that the coven was so quick to target him, and that they picked you to do it. Was it a question of loyalty?” 

“I am loyal!” Eira sneered. 

“Then why did she get attacked?” Gwen asked. 

“That’s easy,” Arthur said. “She’s been given some power, so, the kill was successful. But she failed in everything else. She was seen going inside by Gaius, she couldn’t open the cellar by herself, she didn’t get the gem, and she brought very public attention to magic, when this became a case.” 

Eira put her head back on the pillow. She was fighting back tears. 

Arthur shook his head. “I don’t pity you, Eira, but I commiserate with your feeling of loss.” 

It was the final straw and she burst into tears. “I didn’t want to kill him,” she confessed at last. “I argued with him to run away, but Cedric said his uncle would find out.” 

Tom stepped forward and attached handcuffs to Eira’s wrist, and the other side to the bed she was lying in. 

She laughed at him miserably through her tears. “You think I’m going anywhere? They will kill me the moment I step outside.” 

“Freya won’t,” Gwen said directly. 

Eira looked shocked. 

“Mordred won’t either. Who else do we have to be wary of?” Gwen asked. 

Eira bit her lip and shook her head. 

“Then you are under arrest,” Tom said. “And we will get warrants for Morgause and Morgana too.” 

Suddenly Gwen doubled over and fell off her chair. “Ow!” 

“Gwen?” Tom was beside her in an instant. “Lance! Lance, get back here!” 

Arthur pushed his trolley with the drip forward and pulled Gwen upright by her elbow. “What’s wrong? Does it hurt?” 

She was opening her jacket and grabbing at her belly. “Here, my belly. It hurts. Lance!” 

Lance was by her side in an instant and lifted her back into her chair. “I’m going to lift your shirt,” he said with the voice of the doctor, but Arthur saw the sweat on his brow. “Did you get struck during the attack?” Lance asked. 

“Yes, but I was fine,” Gwen said. “I just fell down a hole. But I was fine, just a bit bruised, really.” 

Lance lifted Gwen’s shirt further and a strange mark had appeared on her belly. It was a circling spiral with a large red dot at the end, which pointed up towards Gwen’s heart. By the second, the mark was becoming more apparent, and a red glow appeared. 

“Ow, it hurts! What’s happening to me?” 

“Gwen,” Arthur said, his voice in rapture. “It’s going to be okay. I think it’s—” 

“Kilgharrah!” another voice finished for him. 

Arthur spun around when he heard Merlin’s voice. He was standing in the door opening with the most idiotic grin and a bag stuffed with clothes. Arthur got up, wet trousers, open robe, drip and all and stumbled into his arms. “You’re safe,” he blurted. “Oh God, I didn’t know—” 

Merlin pulled back a bit, ears red. “Had an urgent delivery to make.” He squeezed Arthur’s arm and walked past him. 

Arthur felt his heart thud loudly in his chest. Just the fact that Merlin was in the same room changed _everything_ about the night’s events. He felt lightheaded and delirious. 

Lance stood up and coughed politely. “What do you mean ‘Kilgharrah’?” 

“Gwen, I didn’t know you were having a baby!” Merlin said. “This is the mark of Kilgharrah. You have been chosen.” 

Her eyes went wide. “What? You mean…?” 

“When Sigan’s gem fell into the hole in the ground,” Arthur concluded. “It must have found Gwen. Kilgharrah’s element is the earth itself. I think that’s when it happened.” 

“What will this do to her?” Tom asked. 

“To her? Nothing. But her child will be magical. It will share its existence with the dragon. Kilgharrah is back in the world.” Merlin said, and he was beaming with such delight that everyone began to feel more at ease. 

“Does it still hurt?” Lance asked and took her hand. 

“No, not anymore. I think it’s done.” 

Eira looked on in wonder and added, “You are protected now.” 

“Congratulations,” Merlin added. And when he looked at Arthur, Arthur saw his pure delight. 

While everyone spoke to Gwen, Arthur took a seat on his designated bed and Merlin brought him the bag of clothes. Arthur smiled at him closed the small curtain around the bed to change. 

“Is it safe?” Arthur asked.

“Yes,” Merlin said, beaming. “All of them are safe now.” 

“Do you, uh… did you see everything that happened?” 

Merlin nodded and looked on as Arthur changed pants, trousers and put on a pair of thick woollen socks decorated with christmas trees. “Saw and heard everything. Emrys wasn’t sure how to judge you at first, but…” 

“Well…” Arthur blushed and disconnected the drip so he could continue getting dressed. 

Merlin leaned in and planted a quick kiss on his lips. 

Arthur didn’t know how he had even been alive in the moments that Merlin wasn’t part of the world. He grabbed Merlin’s cheek and drew him in for more. 

“You saved me, Arthur. And the dragon,” Merlin whispered to him. 

“Of course I did,” he said and chuckled lightly. “I had no idea what I was doing. I’m just glad Aithusa and Emrys are safe. And this news,” he gestured to the group of people outside the curtain. “It means you won’t be alone anymore.” 

“I wasn’t. Not since I met you,” Merlin said and smiled brilliantly, his eyes crinkling up at the corners. “I have something to show you.” 

He got rid of his coat and took off his hoodie, just as Arthur was putting a sweater on. “What are you—?”

“Shh,” Merlin urged and took off his T-shirt as well. 

Arthur stared incredulously. The spiral pattern on Merlin’s side glowed blue, exactly as he had seen before. But in the middle of Merlin’s chest, right over his heart, was a glowing blue orb. Merlin folded his hands over his mouth, mirroring Arthur’s astonishment. 

“You have them both now!” Arthur said. 

Merlin looked around and hushed Arthur, putting his T-shirt back on. 

“I thought it was only in storage for safekeeping,” Arthur admitted. 

Merlin shook his head and looked down. “I couldn’t handle both. It was too much for me. I had both of them, growing up. But when my mum passed…” 

Arthur took Merlin’s hand. “Things will be different now. The villagers know about magic now. They saw a bloody _dragon_ with their own eyes. They’re going to have to be taught how to deal with it. I think there’s no one better for the job.” 

Zipping up his coat again, Merlin chuckled. “Maybe.” He gathered Arthur’s remaining wet clothes into the bag and opened the curtains again. 

“I will make sure Arthur gets home,” Merlin said. He greeted everyone there and took a quick glance at Mordred sleeping on the bed in the corner. “Take care of him, will you, Lance?” 

Lance nodded at him and smiled. 

Arthur felt light as a feather. Merlin had said ‘home’. 


	29. Taking a Turn

Of course, Lance had told Arthur to take it easy in the following days. Naturally, Arthur took this as a challenge to see what his body could handle. The next morning, while Merlin had still been blissfully asleep in bed, he started working out in his bedroom in Seren Wen. 

He worked through his routine, while processing the events in his mind. The shocks his system had had to endure were formidable, but he was not so broken as the first time he had been attacked. He had struck down Cornelius Sigan, saved Freya, and Gwen was now carrying another dragon into the world. 

He was doing sit-ups right at the footboard, when Merlin appeared over the edge of the bed looking sleepy. Arthur continued his sit-ups, mentally counting to one hundred for the third time that morning. 

“Well, Merry Christmas to me,” Merlin said with a grin and pulled the blankets around him while he looked on. 

Arthur reached one hundred and turned around to do more push-ups. All the while Merlin watched him. He only managed to get to fifty before he paused and climbed over to the bed. Merlin laughed nervously and crawled back, but Arthur followed and tumbled back into bed with him. 

“I got a message from Gwen earlier this morning. Morgause has been arrested as leader of the coven. Morgana is still under inspection, but there are no direct leads yet.”

Merlin wrapped his leg around Arthur’s hip and bit his lip. “They were both treating magic very badly,” he said. 

“You will be much better at it, I just know it,” Arthur said. “Now get up, lazybones.” 

Merlin made a noise of complaint. 

Arthur got up and walked into his spacious bathroom. “We’re going to town.” 

“But it’s _Christmas_ ,” Merlin sighed.

“There’s going to be a mass, Merlin,” Arthur said and turned on the shower. 

A moment of silence, and then Merlin appeared in the door opening. “I thought you weren’t religious.” 

Arthur stepped in, “I’m indulging Father Elyan.” 

“Gwen told you to come, didn’t she?” Merlin said with a yawn and stepped into the large, luxurious shower with Arthur. 

“Pretty much,” Arthur said and Merlin chuckled. Their shower quickly turned into something more passionate. 

  
  


*** 

Instead of taking the car, Arthur invited Merlin to walk to the church as it was a sunny day. It took them past the village square, where the gaping hole in the ground was an ugly reminder of what happened the previous evening. It was surrounded by traffic cones and several curious onlookers. 

Gwaine was on a scaffold next to the fountain, he had just finished welding the sword back into place. Percy helped him lower his equipment down. 

"Apparently Mordred and Freya are providing witness accounts to Gwen. Eira still won’t speak,” Arthur said and put his phone away. “Tom is back at his old job.” 

Merlin smiled. “We should get him some flowers.” 

“We should,” Arthur said. Then he paused and Merlin stopped walking as well, curiously turning his head around. “Something that I was wondering. A few days ago, when I asked you to take Aithusa’s heart, was that…?” 

“Kind of a big deal, yeah.” Merlin’s smile was cheeky. 

Arthur scratched the back of his head. “Yes, uh, I think I get that now. What about when I gave the chain to Emrys?” 

Merlin looked up at the clear sky, as if held answers for him. “You offered it to the Dinas. Emrys was pleased with that.” 

“What will happen to Aithusa now?” 

“In time she will be reborn again, in the same way as Kilgharrah. Perhaps there will be another storm to announce it. But hopefully there will be less violence involved.” 

Arthur continued walking and grinned. “We’re going to have to rename your cat.” 

Merlin laughed and they both walked on towards the church. 

It was filled with people from the village. At the front stood Father Elyan and Gaius, and they waited until everyone was seated. There were many candles burning, and there was a beautiful display of flowers at the back. Other than that, very little extra had been done for the mass. 

Father Elyan spoke a long time about the events in town. He acknowledged magic, but he also said that everything under God’s watch had its intentions. He told people not to be afraid and to come to him if they were. 

Arthur nudged Merlin in the side and rolled his eyes. Merlin bumped him back and kept his face as straight as he could. 

Then Gaius began to speak. “I have lived in Camlot all of my life. Events such as occurred last night in the village square are among the strangest I have ever witnessed. The magic that was at hand was of a very old kind, that shouldn’t have been in the world anymore. What Father Elyan and I are asking you now is to look at magic with a more modern look. 

“I am no longer modern. I mean, look at me,” he smiled and people in the church snickered and mumbled. “Before the new year, you will hear who is appointed. Right now we are blessed to have all those around us. Blessed and humble both. Last night, one person in particular stepped forward and did something extraordinary. They risked their own life in order to save everyone, at great risk to himself.” 

Several faces began to turn and search for Arthur in the ground, some fingers pointed. 

“Merlin…” 

Merlin was trying, and failing, to prevent a smile curling on his lips. 

“What did you do?” 

“You deserve this. Go on, you prat. You love the attention.” 

“Oh, for the love of—” 

“Go!” Merlin said. “Merry Christmas.” 

“... to Arthur Pendragon.” Gaius finished, and began applauding. 

Arthur got up and walked the aisle all the way to the front. He was used to eyes on him, he’d had them all his life. His anonymity would be totally gone now. It made him somewhat uncertain But perhaps that would be a good thing. There wasn’t much more his father could take from him anyway. 

Arthur climbed up the stairs and looked at the villagers. He had no idea what to say, where to start. He couldn’t very well say that everything he had done was because he feared losing Merlin, the love of his life. 

So, instead, he said, “Last night, through a bizarre event and a lightning strike, I was able to do something I never thought I had in me before. Much bravery was shown by everyone present. We were all afraid. But that is the point of bravery. If you have any fears about what happened, I can understand that completely. Right now, I’m not afraid anymore. I know that the people who have magic, and who want to use magic, need to consolidate with each other. If there is any reason for us being gathered here today, let that be it.” 

There was a curious mumble. Arthur wondered if he was doing the right thing at all. He continued. “There are several meanings to Christmas. One of them is commemorate the birth of a child, or in effect, of something new in the world. We look at our values each year, around this time, and perhaps make a small shift. Another meaning of Christmas is to keep those who are dear to you close, and safe. Then there is a third, and that is…” He opened his jacket and showed his ridiculous holiday sweater. “Celebration!”

Many laughs went round and there was an applause. Beside him, Father Elyan was less than happy. Nevertheless, Arthur gave a small bow and offered his hand to Father Elyan, who had no other option but to shake it. 

The ceremony came to an end shortly after that and the villagers began to pour out of the church. The sun was disappearing behind some thick clouds. 

The villagers collectively gasped at what they saw. A dessert food truck with the word ‘Sweets’ stamped onto the side was parked in the village square, and several people had gathered already. 

Merlin pointed to it with excitement and pulled Arthur by his arm through the crowd. It wasn’t until they got closer that Merlin recognised the woman selling them her tasty food. 

“She’s the same lady as on the docks,” he said to Arthur in surprise. 

“Merry Christmas,” Arthur said and kissed Merlin on the cheek. 

Merlin huffed in surprise and looked around to see whether anyone had noticed. “You shouldn’t…” Then his expression changed. “Wait, did you do this?” He pointed at the food truck. 

Arthur shrugged and smiled. “Well…” 

Percy and Gwaine interrupted them, followed by Gwen and Lance. Leon and Mithian arrived with their children, who yelled for treats. They exchanged greetings and within moments Merlin was talking excitedly with Gwen and Lance. 

Arthur ordered Merlin an apple turnover with sugar. Gwaine came to stand beside him. “How are you holding up?” he asked Gwaine. 

“I was about to ask you that,” Gwaine said with an easy grin. “I’m alright, really. I’m going to take it one step at a time. Step one, divorce.” 

“I’m sorry to hear it,” Arthur said. 

Gwaine shrugged. “Everyone wanted too much. We forgot to see what we had.” 

Arthur nodded and chewed his cheek. 

“You take care of him,” Gwaine said. “And if anything happens, I’ve got your back.” He slapped Arthur on the shoulder and turned away to talk to Vivian. 

Arthur’s heart was in his throat. He walked up to Gwen, Lance and Merlin. To Merlin he offered the apple turnover. 

“Morgause is taken into custody then?” Arthur asked. 

Gwen nodded. “Morgana has come forward with some details about Nimueh’s death. It happened right before my father was attacked. I now suspect Sigan was involved. She claims it was the reason Morgause ordered the attack on Cedric, because Sigan couldn’t get his hands on the gem.” 

“But they didn’t involve anyone else, so I can only assume they wanted it for themselves.” 

“Morgana wasn’t clear on that, but she has said she would be willing to provide more details,” Gwen said. 

Arthur highly doubted that. But then, Morgause was the head of the organisation, and if anything, the recent events would send a clear message to them. “So, case closed,” Arthur said with a smile. 

“Not quite,” Gwen said. 

“What do you mean?” Arthur asked. He pointedly ignored the sounds of pleasure Merlin was making at devouring his delicious treat. 

“There’s something you overlooked,” Gwen said with a smile. “The graffiti.” 

Arthur chuckled. “No, I didn’t overlook it. But it was never part of the case. I solved that on Friday already.” 

Gwen stared at him with wide eyes. “What? You know who did it?” 

“Yes, and I have proof as well. Just check the bookmark to his bible. It has five stones in a row, fitted into the cross. All of them are red except for the last one. It’s covered by a purple smear.” 

“You don’t mean to say…?” Lance asked. 

“My brother?” Gwen filled in. 

“Purple is the colour of Christianity. He feared not having any say in the matter if magic should ever rise to the surface. I think he believed the attack on Tom to be magic too. I can understand he didn’t trust newcomers. Not if most new people who come to live in Camlot are attracted by magic in the first place. Just ask Julius, he pretty much figured it out before any of you did.” 

“But he wouldn’t!” Gwen said. She saw Elyan just coming out of the church and walking in their direction. 

“To pass is to be judged,” Arthur said loudly, just as Father Elyan passed those exact same words sprayed onto Gaius’s shop. 

Father Elyan paused and looked at them. 

“Elyan!” Gwen raised her voice at him. 

His eyes became wide and he stammered as his sister walked up to him to have a serious talk. The others burst into laughter. Apparently no one had anticipated Elyan’s handiwork. 

One of Leon’s kids shouted and pointed up at the sky. A fresh batch of snow began to fall. 

“How is Mordred?” Merlin asked Lance. 

“He will be alright. I think he will need good friends more than medicine in the coming time.” He put a hand on Merlin’s shoulder and turned to talk to Tom. 

Merlin turned to Arthur and smiled. “Ready to go home?” The snow was landing on his hair and on his red scarf, and his eyes were full of love. 

Arthur thought to himself and answered. “More than ready.” 

They waved and left the crowds. Being neighbours had its perks, it was hardly conspicuous to walk back together. They had already agreed to keep their respective homes and spend time at one house, then the other. 

As they turned up the lane, Merlin bumped him with his elbow purposefully. 

Arthur thumped him back with his arm playfully. 

Merlin pushed him. 

When Arthur took the challenge, Merlin made a run for it, and Arthur followed. 

Fin.

**Author's Note:**

> A massive thank you to Tari_Sue who was my Beta and Brit-picker throughout the fic! Additional thanks to DestinySpoon who supported me!


End file.
